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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608239">Idyllwild</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOutlandishFanfic/pseuds/AnOutlandishFanfic'>AnOutlandishFanfic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:13:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOutlandishFanfic/pseuds/AnOutlandishFanfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>FLUFF. Just fluff. Each “chapter” is stand alone, without an over arching plot to the fic other than 1. Jamie and Claire meet, 2. Jamie and Claire marry, and 3. Jamie and Claire have an abundance of children and live happily ever after together in the modern world. No one’s dead or dies. (both sets of parents are alive, Faith lives, HAPPILY EVER AFTER PEOPLE) Note: I do write this out of order, so I'm going to try my best to figure out how to get them to archive in order here on AO3.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The One with Claire's First Gathering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My family has an annual family reunion of epic proportions and I realized while driving to it that it could easily fit the MacKenzie’s Gathering at Leoch in Season/Book One. So, with some modernized tweaking and situations directly taken from personal experience, come experience the Gathering with Claire!</p><p>What You Need To Know: This is early on in Jamie and Claire’s dating relationship. No kids, not much of a history, they’ve been dating for a bit and falling head over heals in love.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>July 3rd, 2008; Idyllwild, MN. Claire’s driveway.<br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <em>I want you to meet my family. </em>
</p><p>Of course, I’d met Jamie’s parents and siblings already, but he’d meant his <em>entire</em> extended family… an open invitation to travel with him upstate to somewhere in the Northwoods where his mother’s family hosted an annual family reunion. I didn’t have much in the way of extended family — having precisely one bachelor uncle to my name and nothing in the way of cousins — so I packed my bags and climbed into Jamie’s pickup truck with a fair amount of trepidation.</p><p>“Ready?” Jamie grinned over at me before backing out of the driveway.</p><p>I sighed and tried to smile back, my nerves getting the better of me, “As I’ll ever be.”</p><p>He reached out his hand and took mine, squeezing it reassuringly. His touch steadied me — as it always did — and I took a deep breath. The familiar scents of the truck’s interior mingled with the subtle undertones of Jamie’s nearness, coming together to surround me in a sure safety.</p><p>“You’re sure they won’t bite?” I teased, not quite looking at him.</p><p>“Oh aye,” he readily assured, then laughed as he put the truck into gear and our journey began. “Well, maybe not Angus.”</p><p>…</p><p>The holiday traffic thinned once we left the main highways and ventured out onto more rural roads, leaving only determined travelers like ourselves to brave a sudden rain shower. Jamie hadn’t even plugged the address into his GPS before we left, but instead relied on memory and his uncanny sixth sense of direction to direct us to the cabin in the downpour.</p><p>His phone buzzed and he tossed it into my lap, asking. “It’s Jenny. What’d she say? Do we need to pick up anything on the way?”</p><p>
  <em>Laoghaire just arrived, fair warning. <br/>
</em>
</p><p>“L… Lay-oh-gare?” I attempted the Gaelic name and Jamie groaned. I knew I’d butchered it, but I’d done so with others before and he hadn’t reacted in such a manner.</p><p>
  <em>It was the name, not my pronunciation. </em>
</p><p>“Who’s that?”</p><p>“<em>Lhee-ree</em>,” he corrected me with a heavy sigh that morphed into string of what I knew to be expletives in his mother tongue.</p><p>Grimacing in sympathy I asked, “That bad, mmm?”</p><p>“Depends on what the rest of the text says, Sassenach.”</p><p>
  <em>Fair enough. </em>
</p><p>Looking back at his phone, I read the text aloud, this time with correct pronunciation.</p><p>“So, who’s Laoghaire?” I tried again.</p><p>Another dramatic sigh left his lips as he scowled at the road ahead of us, “She’s my cousin… a distant one, but a cousin nonetheless. She comes with her brothers every year.”</p><p>“And you don’t get along?” I surmised when he didn’t continue.</p><p>“She insists she’s in love with me,” he spat as my brows rose in surprise and a fist of jealousy clamped hard around my stomach. “She canna get it through that bonnie wee head of hers that I dinna feel the same, no matter how many times I tell her so.”</p><p>I stayed silent in the passenger seat, unsure what to say to this and even more unsure of what to do about the rising feeling of possessiveness within my spirit. It was a new and foreign emotion, one that churned up all sorts of doubts and insecurities about my relationship with Jamie.</p><p>“Sassenach,” he murmured and reached out his hand, “she’s young and foolish.”</p><p>I nodded and swallowed hard as I took hold of him, tramping down the unease in my heart.</p><p>Jamie squeezed my hand reassuringly, “She’s not for me, you are.”</p><p>Turning to look at him with an attempt at a smile, I changed the topic.</p><p>“How long have you been doing this?” I inquired, then clarified, “Gathering all the way up here in the woods, I mean.”</p><p>Jamie shrugged and gave a low grunt in response, “They moved our cabin onto the property when I was maybe six. Took a whole bunch of ‘em to do it and they had to lift the power lines to get it through.”</p><p>“They <em>moved</em> it?”</p><p>“Oh aye,” he perked up with the turn in the conversation. “It was over by Inverness and Collum hired a whole team of men to do it.”</p><p>Astonished, I asked, “But why go through the trouble? Why not just build a new one?”</p><p>“It was nearly a hundred years old and was going to be torn down, Sassenach,” he explained matter-of-factually, as though it were the only reason anyone would ever need.</p><p>I rose one brow in jest, “That old, hmm?”</p><p>Jamie turned from the road for a moment to grin at me, knowing full well that I found the American habit of deeming anything over fifty years to be old amusing, before continuing, “We’ve added on to it since then, though… more bedrooms and indoor plumbing, you ken. Dougal built his cabin a few years after that. Auntie Jocasta bought the farm across the road before Uncle Hugh died, so… maybe 1998? And Auntie Janet was in town before we had our cabin.”</p><p>“It sounds like all the MacKenzies vacation in the same place,” I commented in slight amazement.</p><p>“Aye, everybody comes flocking back to Leoch in the summer. Da teases Mam that every MacKenzie has a homing beacon embedded in their forehead that goes off at the same time every year.”</p><p>“It’s just your aunts and uncles and their families, then?”</p><p>He shook his head, “There’s other cousins who tag along too, but they vary from year to year. They mostly sleep at the hotel in town, though, or camp by Collum’s cabin. Ours is a little more removed from the rest, farther back into the woods.”</p><p><em>Good</em>.</p><p>Having our own spot to escape to when the maddening crowd got too much sounded wonderful. We’d both brought tents, leaving the bedrooms with access to electricity and indoor plumbing to Jamie’s parents and siblings. Jenny and her husband Ian had a little boy named after Jamie who was almost three and it was far more logical for them to sleep inside than us. There were two other, smaller bedrooms that Jamie’s brothers would be occupying as his older brother Willie would be bringing his wife and the other room was barely big enough to hold a narrow twin bed.</p><p>I much preferred pitching my familiar tent than roosting in a crowded cabin filled with my future in-laws. I’d spent much of my formative years living out of transportable housing and it was almost comforting to spend a night or two doing so now. It would be four nights, to be precise, that I’d spend beneath the stars, surrounded by the comforting cacophony of nature. I hadn’t been scheduled to work the Independence Day weekend and I’d managed to snag an additional two days off on top of that, so I had five whole days to be with the man I loved… and a large group of his extended family.</p><p>“Did you bring a book?” Jamie inquired, his brows furrowing in concern. “It would be completely okay for you to slip away and read if everything gets to be too much. It’s kind of the unspoken loophole of the Gathering.”</p><p>I sighed, marveling — not for the first time — at how skilled he was at gauging my thoughts. I’d packed a mindless romance novel in hopes of being able to do just that. Geillis had lent it to me and I hadn’t the foggiest idea what it was about, but, knowing my friend, it was bound to be rife with cringe worthy tropes and completely unrealistic sex scenes.</p><p>“I did,” I murmured. “You read my mind.”</p><p>He chuckled gently, not at my expense but in delight at knowing me so completely.</p><p>“Your every thought is in your eyes, Sassenach.”</p><p>The music switched just then, changing the mood entirely but not destroying it.</p><p>
  <em>Let me sail, let me sail with the Orinoco flow…</em>
</p><p>“Is this… Celtic Woman?” I asked, grinning with incredulity.</p><p>“Oh, aye,” he confirmed and beamed back at me. “You dinna mind, do you?”</p><p>“Not at all,” I laughed, “but don’t they sing mostly Irish Gaelic music?”</p><p>Jamie shrugged, smile still in place, “Aye, but I dinna mind. They sing a Scotch one now and again.”</p><p>I watched in delighted astonishment as Jamie began to bop his head to the music, unable to resist the enthralling beat.</p><p>“Sail away, sail away, sail away,” he sang in an entirely different key than the feminine voices of the recording, swaying with the pipe’s interlude before repeating his solo. “Sail away, sail away, sail away!”</p><p>…</p><p>I heard Jenny’s announcement of our arrival even before I stepped down from the truck. Turning my head as I shut the heavy door, I watched as Jamie embraced his sister, nearly lifting her tiny frame off the ground.</p><p>I’d always marveled at the genetics of Jamie’s family. Jamie and his brothers were all over six feet tall, as was their father, but Jenny was average height, almost erring on the side of short. Their mother Ellen was as tall as I was and it left me to wonder where Jenny had inherited her petite stature. Maybe I’d find my answer among the MacKenzies.</p><p>The two of them rounded the front of the vehicle and headed for me, Jamie with his arm slung over Jenny’s shoulder as she greeted cheerily, “I’m so glad to have the both of you here! Come inside quick before Mam puts you to work straight off.”</p><p>Jenny unceremoniously slipped her arm about my waist and pulled me up with them as we mounted the few steps onto the cabin’s veranda. Jamie reached ahead to open the door for us and swatted Jenny’s hand away with a smile as she entered ahead, gathering me to his side before we both walked through the door. His hand in mine was the tie that kept me from turning and high tailing it back to the truck.</p><p>I was relieved to find only Jamie’s immediate family — all of whom I’d met before — in attendance and I let down my guard a little, managing a smile that I knew wouldn’t look forced. Jamie’s nephew, who was named after him, eagerly left his toys to come and greet us, crying out in greeting, “Nunkie!!”</p><p>“<em>Hallo, a bhalaich</em>,” Jamie swept him up into his arms and held him high above his head as the toddler shrieked with glee. “Have you been helping your Grannie?”</p><p>The little boy nodded as he was positioned against Jamie’s chest, the usual way Jamie held little ones as he’d yet to figure out how to hold them on his hip, but it didn’t look at all comfortable and I held out my hands, wondering if the lad would come to me when both of his parents and his uncle were in the same room. I was delighted to find that he readily accepted my offer and buried his face in my neck as I held him.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ve been a wonderful help,” I grinned over his head at Jenny and Ian.</p><p>Ian rolled his eyes at this, but his smile betrayed the pride he felt for his only child. “Aye, a help, indeed. Been causing a ruckus most of the time.”</p><p>With this, the matriarch of Jamie’s family swept in the door behind us and embraced her son.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve made it!” She exclaimed, then added. “I need your help in the pavilion. There’s a light out that I canna reach and Willie isna here yet.”</p><p>Jamie chuckled as his mother realized I was standing beside him and gasped. She embraced me and her grandson all at once, nearly shouting my name in my ear as she hugged us.</p><p>“Claire! You got the holiday off, then?”</p><p>“I did,” I nodded, then tried to steer her away from hospital scheduling and gossip and onto the festivities at hand, awkwardly commenting, “Jamie’s told me all about things on the way up.”</p><p>“Braw lass, I’d’ve run while I still had the chance,” Ian teased, half under his breath.</p><p>“Dinna pay him any mind, Claire,” Ellen threw a scowl Ian’s way that held more amusement than affrontement. “It will be a wonderful way to welcome you into the family.”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” Jamie’s brother-in-law grinned, “our merry band of outlaw in-laws always welcomes new recruits.”</p><p>Warmth rushed to my cheeks as I stammered, “I’m not an in-law quite yet.”</p><p>“You will be soon, if my <em>clotheided</em> brother knows what’s good for him,” Jenny snorted, joining the conversation for the first time. “You’ve earned your stripes, to be sure, Claire, putting up with the likes of him for as long as you have.”</p><p>Jamie growled as he dove onto the sofa beside his sister, tackling and tickling her until his namesake mistook his actions as unkind, scolding, “Gentle hands, Nunkie! No hit!”</p><p>Ian had a good laugh at this and I took Little Jamie’s words as something that was often said to him when he misbehaved. Tickling him gently, I laughed as he squirmed in my arms, his furrowed brow melting away as he giggled.</p><p>“Nunkie isn’t hurting your mum,” I assured the toddler, “but shall we go tickle him?”</p><p>“Aye!”</p><p>We scurried over and flopped down on the other side of Jamie, our hands finding the nape of his neck, the crease of his armpit and tickling in earnest. He rounded on us in Jenny’s stead, with most of his focus on the places he knew that I was ticklish in.</p><p>“Get your nephew, not me!” I cried, trying to swat his hands away.</p><p>“No such luck, Sassenach,” he teased and I realized the little boy had crawled completely over Jamie and into the safety of his mother’s lap.</p><p>Some comrade he turned out to be.</p><p>“I surrender, you oaf,” I laughed. “Stop it.”</p><p>Jamie’s fingers ceased their prodding, but his palms stayed pressed against my ribs. I suddenly became very aware of how close he was, that his arms were crossed around my waist and his face was buried in my neck. I held my breath as he shifted against me, all but spooning me here on the couch in front of everyone.</p><p>A pillow soared across the room and bounced off Jamie’s face, breaking the spell as Ellen gave him instructions for changing out the burnt bulb. He gave me a parting squeeze before letting go and I reluctantly moved away from him, coming to my feet awkwardly as I wondered what I should do. He certainly didn’t need my assistance in this task and I’d known going into this that I wouldn’t be able to be by his side one hundred percent of the time, but I now found I didn’t really know what to do with myself amongst his family without him.</p><p>“Do you want to find a place for your tent?” Jamie offered, reading my mind once again. “There’s plenty of room out back and it’ll just be your tent and mine that’s back there. I’ll help you set it up when I’m done with this.”</p><p>I flashed him a smile and followed him out the door. Jamie nodded his head towards the large structure just past his truck, explaining, “That’s the pavilion. We’ll eat meals there once everyone is here, starting tomorrow.”</p><p>There were six banquet sized tables decked with tablecloths in patriotic colors within, with another three in the sun just outside the wooden pillars that held up the roof of the pavilion. Long, wooden benches ran parallel to some, while white plastic chairs flanked the others. It looked as it could house a great many people and I wondered just how much food it would take to feed the MacKenzie clan three square meals a day for three straight days.</p><p>Jamie reached one long arm into the bed of the truck and pulled out my bagged tent offering it to me as he leaned close, slipping the other around my waist and pecking me on the cheek with a brief kiss, “Thank you, Sassenach.”</p><p>“For what?” I asked, unsure but ready to do it again if it meant another kiss. I slipped my fingers through one of his belt loops to keep him from moving away.</p><p>“For coming… for staying,” he shrugged. “For everything.”</p><p>“Oh,” I murmured as heat crept into my cheeks.</p><p>Jamie grinned and gave me a bunny kiss, nudging his nose against mine.</p><p>“I love making you blush.”</p><p>“It’s not as if it’s hard to do,” I grumbled.</p><p>“Mmhmm,” his lips met mine for only a second before he reluctantly backed away and gave me a gentle push towards in the general direction of where I was to pitch my tent. “Find a good spot, Sassenach.”</p><p>…</p><p>I’d just begun to set up my tent when Jamie arrived with a rather annoyed look on his face.</p><p>“You didna have to do that, Sassenach,” he grumbled. “I said I’d help you.”</p><p>“Oh, I know!” I quickly assured him. “It’s really quite simple and I’ve done it before on my own.”</p><p>That was an understatement, really. I’d pitched this tent dozens of times in as many different state parks, all of which I explored by myself when I moved to Minnesota. I enjoyed the solitary feel of nature and this tent was a staple in nearly all of my adventures.</p><p>Jamie merely nodded and I could tell that something more than just me assembling my own tent was bothering him.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>A rather sour look crossed his face as he confessed, “I forgot to pack my tent.”</p><p>“Oh,” I murmured in understanding, then a logical thought came to mind and I voiced it immediately, “Well, there’s room for you in my tent.”</p><p>“Oh, aye?”</p><p>Jamie’s brows rose as he tilted his head to the side, a smirk pulling at the corners of his eyes.</p><p>“Not a lot,” I muttered, realizing exactly how that offer sounded, “but enough for you to sleep in.”</p><p>“Sleep?” he grinned.</p><p>“Yes, <em>sleep</em>.”</p><p>Jamie nodded, “Well, let’s put it up and see how much room there is, shall we?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The One with S'mores</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner was a distracted affair on my part. The food was delicious, as always, but instead of the friendly conversation around me, my sleeping arrangements were at the forefront of my mind. The tent had been up for an hour and I’d thought of nothing else since.</p><p>There had been room for two sets of gear and both sleeping bags, but little else. It would be a tight squeeze tonight, with little personal space for either of us, and yet I’d offered for Jamie to bunk with me.</p><p><em>Bunk with me, </em>my stomach clenched at the phrase, warmth pooling between my legs. <em>That’s a euphemism waiting to happen if I’ve ever heard one. </em></p><p>We hadn’t “bunked” together yet… but there <em>had</em> been a moment, one that was now replaying in my mind’s eye on a constant repeat, where we’d been close.</p><p>Jamie had taken me out to dinner and escorted me from his truck into to my apartment at the end of the date. We lingered in each other’s embrace for as long as we could before saying goodnight. His arousal had been more than evident as he’d kissed me, effortlessly lifting me off my feet and into his arms as he carried me to the sofa. We’d barely fit, the two of us tangled together, and a good many barriers crumpled into the dust.</p><p>I certainly hadn’t objected to his wandering hands, nor he mine, but I somehow found myself wedged between Jamie’s bulk and the padded arm of the sofa. His weight against me became suddenly too much, too reminiscent of a night and a love long past. I moved to extricate myself and Jamie readily let me, ever the gentleman. I’d almost bolted right then and there, fleeing the living room and the memory of the wounds that Frank had inflicted, but Jamie’s eyes had held me fast.</p><p>I found patience instead of frustration or disappointment in those fathomless blue depths. Jamie had understood without a word that I was unready to take that step and I knew in that same moment that he would wait until the end of time for me to be so. The night had continued on and he’d spent at least another hour with me on that sofa, but I was left with the feeling that the reigns were in my hands, that Jamie was willing to go the pace and direction I desired.</p><p>Three weeks had passed since then and now we seemed to have reached a destination of sorts… but one question still remained:</p><p>
  <em>Was I ready?</em>
</p><p>“Could you pass the dirt pudding, when you get a moment?”</p><p>Jamie’s younger brother Rob’s request jerked me out of the proverbial bedroom and back to the dinner at hand.</p><p>“The what?” I nearly choked at what he’d called the dessert in front of me, as well as the embarrassment of being caught with my mind in the bedroom and not paying the slightest bit of attention to the conversation around me.</p><p>The teen grinned, answering, “Dirt Pudding.”</p><p>I picked up the nearly empty bowl — its contents smeared and stirred and smooshed, giving it a rather interesting appearance — and handed it to him.</p><p>“Is that a Scottish or American delicacy?”</p><p>“American,” Ian piped in as I eyed the cream and chocolate dessert.</p><p>“What’s in it?”</p><p>“Dirt, Sassenach.” Jamie quipped with a smile, reaching around me and taking the serving spoon from his little brother’s hands. He dolluped a small serving onto my plate as he encouraged, “Try it.”</p><p>I nudged him with my foot and he nudged right back, almost smooshing mine beneath his as I tasted the dish. It was very sweet and the crumbs of — what I assumed to be — some sort of chocolate biscuit still held their crunch as it was layered between thick swaths of rich vanilla pudding.</p><p>“It’s Oreos,” Jenny explained with a roll of her eyes at her brothers’ antics, “with cream cheese and cool whip.”</p><p>“You didn’t put the gummy worms in this time, Mam,” Willie, the eldest, complained with a wink.</p><p>Winking must not be an inherited trait, I surmised, for all of Jamie’s siblings seemed to be able to do so with ease, while he could not. It was one of the many, thousands of things that I found endearing about Jamie and the lazy, almost owlish blink he used in its stead never failed to make my heart skip a beat.</p><p>“How old are you, Willie Fraser?” his wife Maia chastised him in good fun, “Twenty-nine going on ten?”</p><p>Ellen chuckled, “Tha’ sounds about right.”</p><p>“Is the s’more stuff here or at Uncle Collum’s?” Rob turned to his father in question, provoking his brothers to join their mother in laughter.</p><p>“You havena finished dinner yet and you’re asking about the next meal?” Jamie chortled, “Have you got a hollow leg to hide all this food away in, <em>brothair</em>?”</p><p>Ian waggled his finger in feigned reproach at his youngest brother-in-law, “I wouldna advise it, lad, for I have and the lassies dinna like a fellow with band of squirrels following him around like the pied piper.”</p><p>“After your nuts now, were they, the squirrels?” Jenny rose a brow at her husband’s comment, one corner of her mouth twitching. “Pesky wee things when they canna find wha’ they’re lookin’ for, aye?”</p><p>…</p><p>I’d never eaten — let alone <em>seen</em> — an actual, bonafide American s’more in my entire life. Nor had I any desire or opportunity to roast a marshmallow near an open flame until now. All that aside, I did rather enjoy kebab style food and Jamie and his brothers were eager to show me the ropes, so to speak, and I found that we were all soon covered in the marshmallow’s white, sticky sweetness.</p><p>“Like it?” Jamie asked around a mouthful of his own messy treat.</p><p>To my surprise, I found that I did. I was quite sure I didn’t want a second, but I now understood why this campfire treat had become an American classic with its unique flavor and texture combination. The hot marshmallow had melted the chocolate and the hint of cinnamon and crunch from the graham crackers tied the whole thing together with a star spangled bow.</p><p>I nodded, but then was distracted by a sudden, small burst of flame that hovered a few inches above the main log of the fire. Following the stick back to its owner, I warned, “Rob, I think yours has caught fire.”</p><p>He merely beamed at me in response and stuck it further into the flames, causing the marshmallow to burn in earnest. I laughed as he proudly retrieved it a moment later and blew on it to extinguish his impromptu torch.</p><p>“They’re good crispy too, Claire,” he informed me, then urged, “you should try one.”</p><p>I opened my mouth to profess how full I was after Ellen’s wonderful dinner and the massive s’more Jamie had made me, but Willie interrupted me before I had a chance to speak, calling across the fire, “Dinna listen to him, Claire. Burnt marshmallows are a travesty.”</p><p>“You’re just jealous,” Rob shrugged with a smirk.</p><p>Jamie scoffed, “Of what?”</p><p>“My charming personality and good looks,” he flippantly answered, the smirk breaking out into a full fledged grin that threatened to split his face into two. Rob cast a quick glance at me before he added, “And that I’m Claire’s favorite.”</p><p>Cries of outrage sounded from Willie and Jenny as they pleaded their case, making Brian and Ian laugh uproariously.</p><p>“I don’t have a favorite,” I insisted, my hands raised in mock surrender.</p><p>“Is that so, Sassenach?” Jamie poked me in the ribs, “Here I thought I was your favorite Fraser.”</p><p>Rolling my eyes and swatting away his hand, I unnecessarily muttered, “A favorite sibling, you goon.”</p><p>“Oh, I ken how I rate,” he persisted, pulling me into his lap quite suddenly and buried his sticky face in my hair. I laughed in surprise as much as delight as Jamie held me close, his strong arms prohibiting any movement of mine, should I want to… but I didn’t.</p><p>“Alright, lovebirds,” Brian sighed as he stood and smiled over his shoulder as be headed towards the cabin, “I’m for bed.”</p><p>The cue was obvious and one by one the various members of the Fraser family rose and bid us goodnight, leaving Jamie and I alone by the fire quite quickly. They all tromped back to the log cabin where Ellen had already put Young Jamie down for the night, talking about room arraignments and bed sheets.</p><p>Heat rushed to my cheeks and I knew it had nothing to do with the fire before me and everything to do with the man who was holding me very close. Jamie’s nose nudged the ridge of my upper thoracic spine and he brushed a kiss near my T4. Turning his face and pressing his cheek against me, I felt him smile as a contented sigh escaped his lips.</p><p>“They didn’t all have to leave,” I mumbled, a little embarrassed, then acquiesced as I realized I was rather glad they had. “Well, at least not all at once.”</p><p>“Dinna fash about it, Sassenach,” he assured me, shifting me and moving his head to rest his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my ear. “They dinna mind.”</p><p>“Mind what?”</p><p>Jamie’s arms tightened around my waist as he murmured, “That we’re sharing a tent.”</p><p>A writhing mass of anxiety settled into the pit of my stomach as I realized the moment I’d been thinking about all evening was now upon us. An uncomfortable silence fell after his clarification and I squirmed in his lap.</p><p>“We’re sharing a tent, but we’ve never talked about sex.” I blurted, hurtling the topic out into the open before I could chicken out.</p><p>Jamie’s embrace loosened and one arm slipped beneath my legs as he turned me to face him. I blinked up at him in surprise and he settled me more comfortably on top of him, his fingers lifting to brush an errant curl from my eyes. I felt, rather than heard, his laugh, but felt only relief at his unobjected response to my outburst.</p><p>“Aye,” he smiled down at me, a gentle amusement shining in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it now?”</p><p>I nodded, knowing that we must, but I found myself at a sudden loss for words. I swallowed hard against the rising lump in my throat and blinked rapidly to keep my sudden tears at bay.</p><p>
  <em>Keep it together, Beauchamp.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Ach, mo chridhe</em>,” Jamie crooned and wiped away a drop of moisture that managed to escape. “Do you ken what handfasting is?”</p><p>His question came out of nowhere, as if he’d plucked it from the night sky above.</p><p>“It’s… It’s a temporary marriage, right?” I stumbled, my heart wondering if he meant what I thought he did.</p><p>
  <em>Was he suggesting that we be handfast?</em>
</p><p>Jamie nodded, his thumb tenderly stroking my flushed cheek as his gaze grew soft, yet distant. He recited something in his mother tongue, then his eyes met mine again and he translated easily the words of his heart.</p><p>
  <b>Blood of my blood, bone of my bone.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I give you my body, that we two should be one. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>I give you my soul, til our lives shall be done. </b>
</p><p>“Would you be bound to me, Claire?” Jamie asked, his voice thick with passion and earnesty. “But not only for a year and a day… will you have me until I can give you my ring?”</p><p>I mutely nodded, my hand coming to my lips to stem the sob that threatened to burst forth.</p><p><em>Forever</em>.</p><p>Jamie didn’t want me out of a passing whim, an act of convenient passion due to our sleeping arrangements. He wanted me now and for always. He didn’t ask that I be his, as if I were something to be acquired, but asked if he could be mine. I’d always been a possession to Frank, a woman to be flaunted but never respected, and yet with this proposal Jamie demonstrated — as he had in so many other situations — that my mind and my heart were worth infinitely more to him than just the pleasure my body could give his.</p><p>Not that I was about to take desires of the flesh off the table…</p><p>Jamie’s hand moved to rummage in his pocket—which was in close quarters to my inseam — and I caught my breath. A moment later, I realized he was completely intent on finding whatever it was he was looking for and utterly unaware of the effect he was having on me. His brow furrowed as he searched the tangle of keys and loose change and I lifted my fingers to face, smoothing the lines of urgent concentration.</p><p>He stopped moving beneath me to lean in for a kiss, but froze as he realized exactly where his hand was. He yanked it away, having found the item just then, and his eyes grew wide. I clamped one hand over his mouth, the other grabbing the back of his head to keep him near.</p><p>“If you’re about to apologize, James Fraser…” my voice dropped to an almost hum, “then I’m going to feel bloody ridiculous for asking you to do it again.”</p><p>Jamie grinned beneath my hand, the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. Lowering the barrier from his lips, I kissed him, hard. His hand didn’t resume its place between us, so I moved it for him, eliciting almost a squeak from the rugged Highlander beneath me.</p><p>“Wait,” he choked, pulling away enough to show me what he had retrieved from his pocket.</p><p>A flash of metal drew my eye in the low fire’s light and I rose a brow in question, wondering what on earth he needed his pocket knife for.</p><p>“I dinna have anything to bind us, <em>mo nighean donn</em>,” he began to explain, “but there’s an old Gaelic tradition where husband and wife take a blood oath at the altar after their vows… and I thought… maybe we could do that instead?”</p><p>A slow smile spread across my face as I offered him my hand, palm up.</p><p>“Blood of my blood, mmm?”</p><p>“Aye,” Jamie’s delight at my ready comprehension shone as bright as his blade, his eyes radiating a joy so complete that he couldn’t contain it.</p><p>He took my hand and ushered me to my feet, standing in front of me, bathed in the glow of the fire behind me. He made a small incision on the pad of his right thumb, then hesitated for only a moment before doing the same to mine. Jamie welled a drop of blood from his own finger and pressed it tightly against my thumb. It smarted for a moment, but the gravity of the act overpowered my natural instinct to flinch and pull away.</p><p>Jamie repeated the words of the Gaelic blood vow and I echoed them, his low intonations rising gooseflesh on my arms and sending a rush of adrenaline through my body. My other hand reached for him and found a home in the small of his back as he gave me his solemn oath.</p><p>“Till our lives shall be done,” I finished with him, tipping my head back and standing on tiptoe in search of a kiss.</p><p>His lips found mine and I pulled him closer as he let go of my hand in order to hold me properly. My head spun as I clung to him, the rush of emotions making me dizzy. He pressed me against him and I found my body immediately answering his call, arching and reaching for more.</p><p>“<em>A dhia,</em> Claire,” he groaned.</p><p>Jamie’s faith was something he took very seriously, so much so that I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard him take his Lord’s name in vain. He never did so flippantly and this utterance, this Gaelic cry of his heart was my undoing. I stood with hot tears rolling down my face and I looked up at him only to find a trail running across his own cheek.</p><p>His voice was thick with emotion as he murmured, “Will you have me?”</p><p>“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.</p><p>Bending his head, Jamie kissed me again, but there was something new, something more to this kiss than any he’d given me before. It undid every knot of anxiety within me, knocking down every wall I’d put up in self defense around my heart. He broke away, only to pull me around the wooden bench we’d been sitting on and over to the tent, grabbing blindly for the zipper of the tent flap.</p><p>“Wait here a moment, aye?” Jamie grinned at me before disappearing inside.</p><p>The lantern switched on and I could see him bumping along the sides of the tent as he presumably… got things ready. Warmth rushed to my cheeks and pooled in the pit of my stomach as I wondered what it was that he was doing. I didn’t need to understand his mother tongue to know that things weren’t exactly going to plan and I peeked in, effectively silencing Jamie’s mutterings.</p><p>“Can… can I be of any assistance?” I offered, biting my lower lip to keep from laughing at his staticky, disheveled hair and flushed face, both gifts from my nylon tent.</p><p>He grunted in response, turning away to shove luggage aside and haphazardly fling errant items of clothing as he admitted, “You deserve a much better bed than this, I’m afraid.”</p><p>I had the impulse to tell him that I’d have him anywhere he liked right about now, propriety and a mattress be hanged, but I stepped inside the tent instead to still his harried movements.</p><p>“I don’t mind,” I assured him as I knelt and tried to catch hold of his arm, only to have him lean out of my reach, a string of what I assumed to be Gaelic expletives hurled at an offending shoe. Grabbing a fistful of the back of his shirt, I gave it a gentle tug, urging, “Jamie, look at me.”</p><p>He turned and his hair flopped into his eyes as he gave me a smile, the likes of which had me kissing him before I even realized what I was doing. Laughing at myself and the obvious fact that Jamie had no idea what to do with his hands, I assured him again, “I really don’t mind.”</p><p>“Aye,” Jamie blushed. “I just… I’ve never done this before.”</p><p>I’d gathered as much, but the confirmation of his virginity gave me pause.</p><p>“Do you mind that I have?”</p><p>“Nae, Sassenach. I suppose one of us should should ken what they’re doing.”</p><p>His immediate response and rueful grin nipped that particular budding fear within me before it had a chance to bloom into a Venus flytrap of inhibition, but there was another one… a past injury that smarted as I began to use my heart in this physically affectionate way again and made it increasingly difficult to breathe.</p><p>“Only you, I swear it,” Jamie murmured, taking my face in his hands, ensuring that I saw the sincerity in his eyes. The memory of Frank’s possession and infidelity pushed me away from him, made me shake my head in response, but Jamie merely shifted his grasp, keeping me close but not immobile.</p><p>My palms pressed against his chest, my own heaving with the effort it took to stay here, in this moment, and not run from the tent. I wanted to believe him and my brain reminded me of all the times Jamie had been true to his word, even at the inconvenience of himself, but my heart warned me that it would not last.</p><p>“May God be my witness, Claire,” Jamie vowed, his voice thick and deep. “It’s you or no one at all.”</p><p>I leaned my head forward, my brow resting against his as my eyes shut tight. Jamie’s hands massaged my back as he continued to speak, his words slipping in and out of English. I could catch a Gaelic phrase or two that I knew, a hushed endearment that he’d used now and then, and I let his soothing tone keep me rooted to him, anchoring me in my sea of doubt.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Tha gaol agam ort, mo nighean donn. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“I love you too,” I murmured back when I could finally speak, opening my eyes to offer him a wobbly smile.</p><p>He returned it with a confident one of his own and a hushed, “May I show you?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The One with their First Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fluff... and SMUT. This chapter's NSFW, folks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Tha gaol agam ort, mo nighean donn. </em>
</p><p>“I love you too,” I murmured back when I could finally speak, opening my eyes to offer him a wobbly smile.</p><p>He returned it with a confident one of his own and a hushed, “May I show you?”</p><p>I lifted my head and nodded, my arms coming around him as his hands slid beneath my shirt, his palms caressing my ribs as he continued his massage. He kissed me as they lifted to cup my breasts, still sheathed in my bra. His hands dropped to inquire about the button fastening of my jean shorts and I moved to assist him, but he shook his head, an excited gleam in his eyes as he brushed my hands away.</p><p>Instead, I tugged my blouse up and over my head, letting it fall from my hands where it may, and rose up slightly, letting him ease the shorts off of my hips into a crumple around my knees. His hand moved to the elastic band holding my riotous curls in place atop my head, his brows rising in question.</p><p>“How do I take this out?”</p><p>“Pull,” I urgently insisted.</p><p>“But won’t that hurt you?”</p><p>I grinned as my hand covered his, curling his fingers around it. “All the better.”</p><p>The confusion and concern in his eyes gave way to a thrilling comprehension as he tried to kiss me and yank my hair free in one fluid motion. My head snapped back and he ended up kissing my chin instead of my lips, which set us both into a fit of giggles as he then tried to unfasten my bra. The clasp doggedly remained in place, despite his best efforts, and I reached back to help him once again, undoing it with a flick.</p><p>I started to shrug the bra off, but his hand stopped me, keeping the straps in place.</p><p>“Let me,” he insisted, his voice a reverent whisper as his fingers slowly teased one strap and then the other over my shoulders.</p><p>It fell into my lap and I sat virtually naked before him for the very first time. I heard him catch his breath, but he made no other sound as he stared at me, his eyes wide. I shifted uncomfortably under his silent gaze and looked away, unable to meet his gaze as I muttered, “You could bloody say something.”</p><p>“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he croaked and then swallowed hard, his voice husky and streigned. He lifted his hand and gently turned my face towards him once again as he murmured, “Christ, Claire, you’re perfect.”</p><p>Tears sprang to my eyes and it was my turn to sit gaping stupidly at him.</p><p>Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, could he be any more wonderful?</p><p>“God, I love you,” I burst when I could finally speak, making Jamie tip his head back and laugh.</p><p>“Aye,” he leaned in for a kiss, “an’ I love you, Sassenach.”</p><p>I moved away before he was quite finished and he growled at me, but I only grinned.</p><p>“My turn,” I coyly explained as I tugged at his shirt, sliding my palms up his chiseled abdomen. His laughter rumbled beneath my hands as his annoyance turned to acceptance, pleased as punch to have me return the favor. I’d seen him shirtless before, of course, but never in such a personal, intimate setting and the sight of his bare chest, the feel of his taut muscles sent an electric charge through me, standing the hair on my arms on end.</p><p>I shed him of his shirt without much ceremony and turned my attention to his trousers. Slipping my fingers into his belt loops, I pulled him towards me. He readily moved to do my bidding, shifting his weight so that I could do as I pleased. I rose up on my knees in front of him, the both of us now kneeling together, facing each other in the middle of the tent and a thought came to me.</p><p>“Should we turn off the light?” I wondered aloud, glancing towards the thin tent walls.</p><p>“Dinna fash, Sassenach, none of the windows face this direction,” he assured me, but tossed his shirt on top of the lantern for good measure, blocking a good deal of the electric glow.</p><p>The result was as close to mood lighting as one could get out of doors and in a tent, but it was really the only thing lacking to our moment. We could still see each other well enough to delight in, yet the deep shadows heightened our senses, making us more aware of touch and scent than before.</p><p>Jamie bent his head to kiss me as my fingers found the bulge of him, a low moan escaping as I deftly unzipped his shorts and tugged them free. I slid my hands under the waistband of his knickers and guided this final item of clothing off of him, taking my time to revel in the act before lowering my own. He was delightfully warm as he pressed against me, his heat a stark contrast to the night’s chill at my back.</p><p>
  <em>It was obvious that he was ready… but was I?</em>
</p><p>I tipped my head back for a moment, looking up at him in the darkness, my eyes searching his. Jamie’s face melted as he found my reticence hiding in the lines of my brow. Without a word, he lowered me onto the sleeping bag, hovering above me with a look of such tender devotion that I nearly began to cry once more. I sighed as he slid one arm beneath me, holding me close. His lips found mine again and my inhibitions fell away under his reverent touch.</p><p>His hand was on my hip, but now dipped lower, his fingers slipping between my legs. A sound left my lips before I could catch myself. One that had Jamie’s gaze fixated on my face, hoping for me to do so again.</p><p>“Make all the wee noises you like, <em>mo chridhe</em>,” he crooned suggestively as his thumb worked gentle circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, climbing steadily higher. “They’ve the windows closed and the air on in the cabin.”</p><p>“Oh?” I commented lamely as heat rushed to my cheeks. I hadn’t given any thought as to how or where the sound would carry, but was now very much aware of how well voices carried on a still night such as this.</p><p>Jamie’s hand drifted again and I caught my breath as he grew bolder, gently exploring me as we lay there together. His own breathing became shallow and more rapid as his arousal grew. His eyes shone in the low light as he shifted, settling his full weight square on top of me.</p><p>The breath I’d been holding left my lungs in a whoosh and he quickly apologized as he moved off of me, repeating, “Oh God, Sassenach, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”</p><p>I reached for him, pulling him back towards me with half chuckle, half cough as I assured him, “You didn’t. Just… ah, lean on your elbows a little more.”</p><p>Dogged determination washed across Jamie’s face and made me laugh in earnest. He looked down at me in distracted amusement and I beamed up at him as he tried to position himself again. I shifted, deciding it might be easier to move me rather than direct him, and the brush of my raised nipples against his chest had us both careening towards the point of no return.</p><p>My hands cupped the taught, rounded muscles of his arse, my fingers digging into him as I pulled him down to me, opening myself to welcome him in.</p><p>“<em>Holy God</em>.”</p><p>Jamie’s gasp and visceral reaction at being so close and yet so far pulled me from the fence of hesitancy and catapulted me into the arena, making me groan, “Don’t stop now.”</p><p>Coming alive above me in a mighty rush of urgency, Jamie roused me to response, in spite of his awkwardness. I didn’t want to break his stride to lecture on the finer points of things as he was still too hungry and too clumsy for tenderness, and, instead, let him do as he would. He made love with a sort of unflagging joy that made me think that male virginity was something of an underrated commodity.</p><p>He was done long before I was, collapsing into a heap beside me, panting as if he’d run a marathon. I could still feel his pulse echoing through my body and knew his heart rate was very nearly to — if not exceeding — the pace found at any finish line. This wouldn’t be tonight’s finish line if I had anything to say about the matter and, judging by the state of my newly betrothed, I rather thought I did.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were half shut, barely conscious as he wheezed, “Oh, God, Sassenach.”</p><p>I rolled onto my side, propping my head on my hand as I grinned at him</p><p>“You liked it, then?” I teased, knowing full well that he had.</p><p>His answer was a low growl that sounded something along the lines of <em>verra much</em> before he cracked one eye open and remarked, “I thought my heart was going to burst.”</p><p>My own heart was swollen to the point of bursting as well as I leaned forward to bury my face in his chest, a smile stretching from ear to ear. His fingers absently played with my hair as we fell into a contented silence and I thought he maybe had fallen into a light doze when he suddenly mumbled something entirely incoherent.</p><p>“I haven’t a clue what you just said,” I chuckled, turning my head to look at him and adding, “if you were talking to me, that is.”</p><p>He shrugged, the movement jostling me ever so slightly, “More thinking out loud, I guess.”</p><p>“About?”</p><p>I shifted, easing back onto my side in order to see him better, wondering what sorts of things he was mulling over in that brilliant, compassionate mind of his.</p><p>“What… that is like for a woman,” Jamie looked rather sheepish at having voiced this. “I mean, does it happen for you every time?”</p><p>My breath caught. I wasn’t about to lie to Jamie… but I didn’t want him to feel like he’d been inadequate or was in some way incompatible to me. My silence apparently spoke volumes for I suddenly found myself on my back again, gazing up at him in surprise.</p><p>“I was selfish just now,” he murmured, his brow deeply furrowed. “Will you forgive me?”</p><p>I shook my head, firmly insisting, “There’s nothing to forgive.”</p><p>“Aye, there is.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were almost sorrowful as one hand slid beneath my head, lifting my face closer to his as he kissed me.</p><p>“I placed my need above yours, <em>mo chridhe</em>, but now… your needs are my needs. I want to be aroused by your arousal, I want to love you like no one has ever loved you before.”</p><p>My hands lifted to his face as I whispered, “You already do.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The One with Whisky & Popcorn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again, this one's definitely NSFW.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>Later. </b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Sassenach, where’s the popcorn?”</p><p>“The <em>what?”</em> I propped myself up on my elbows, turning my head and craning my neck in order to peer behind me as I lay on my stomach.</p><p>“The snacks from the drive up,” Jamie clarified as he rummaged around in the dark. “Did you bring them into the kitchen or are they still in the truck? I canna find them.”</p><p>“I didn’t move them, so if you didn't…  they’re still in the truck.”</p><p>A low Scottish <em>umhmm</em> was his reply and masked the sound of him crawling back over to me, making the overly affectionate pat on my arse a little more startling than it might have otherwise been. I rolled onto my side, ready to make a crass comment, but caught a full view of him as he leaned over to retrieve his shorts.</p><p>I quite suddenly found that I had nothing to say about his hands and was now inclined to do a good deal more with my own. Following my instinct, I reached out a hand to trace the long lines of him, my fingers gliding over taut muscles until they reached their destination. He started at my touch and swallowed an exclamation, turning it into a low rumble of delight in an instant.</p><p>“You have me at a disadvantage.”</p><p>Jamie hovered above me, moving as I wished, for I did — indeed — have the proverbial upper hand. He abandoned the gym shorts as he dipped his head to mine in a kiss, his eyes alight.</p><p>“Hungry?”</p><p>“Ravenous,” I purred, stroking his length.</p><p>He groaned, taking hold of my wrist in supplication, “Hold on to that thought, aye?”</p><p>“<em>Mmm</em>,” I kissed him again with a sigh, my fingers wrapping around him, “I already am.”</p><p>“Christ, Sassenach — I canna, I’m starving,” Jamie pleaded.</p><p>“It should take you four minutes to retrieve what you need,” I taunted, unable to hold back the grin that threatened to stretch off my face as I let go of him.</p><p>“I’ll give you two.”</p><p>Jamie blinked down at me, an awed expression lighting his face.</p><p>“Did… did you just quote Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”</p><p>“I did,” I answered promptly, immensely pleased with myself for being able to quote Jamie’s favorite film.</p><p>As a rule, I didn’t watch much in the way of feature films, preferring to lose myself in a documentary or episodic crime procedural of an evening, but Jamie had a soft spot for the classics and I had to admit that I enjoyed them as well. We’d watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s together on our third date, but I was quite sure he’d deny under oath that the 1961 cinematic masterpiece was his favorite… and answer instead that his beloved Braveheart lay claim to that title.</p><p>Jamie possessed a noble, warrior spirit and rose to meet any physical and mental challenge that befell him with a strength and vitality that outmatched any man I knew. All that aside, he had an incredibly tender heart that he let few people in his life see. I cherished every glimpse I had of it, treasuring each moment as the gem that it was.</p><p>“Christ, you’re wonderful, Claire,” his voice was thick and his smile wobbled a little as he gathered me into his arms, effortlessly lifting me onto his lap.</p><p>“That’s funny,” I brought my hands to his face, pulling him to me so that I could bump his nose with my own, “I had the same thought about you.”</p><p>He kissed me with a gleam in his aye, “Oh, aye. I ken.”</p><p>“Oh, really?!” I scoffed with a laugh at his impertinence.</p><p>“Aye,” he nodded gravely, trying to maintain a serious expression for comedic purposes, but not succeeding much. ”I can read minds, Sassenach.”</p><p>One corner of my mouth twitched as I tried to emulate his frown, “Then what — <em>pray tell</em> — am I thinking now, oh Wise One?”</p><p>His stomach chose this exact moment to let out the loudest rumble that I’d ever heard in my entire life.</p><p>“That if I dinna hurry, I may not live to see the morn,” he replied, completely deadpan.</p><p>I laughed as I rolled off his lap, shoving him towards the one and only exit.</p><p>“Then go, you <em>goon</em>, so you can be back!”</p><p>He tugged his shorts on and unzipped the tent flap, plunging into the night like a mad man. I could hear him crash through the underbrush as I leaned over to close the opening, for I had no intention of being fully clothed in pajamas or wrapped in a sleeping bag any time soon and the last thing we needed was a swarm of bloodthirsty mosquitoes in here to feast upon the abundance of our exposed skin. The truck door slammed shut and my smile only grew as I envisioned him bolting down the path: his long legs stretching out as far as they could to make every stride count, his arms flapping wildly as he shoved branch and briar aside, his hair a right mess from his haste. He wasn’t out of breath, only slightly winded as he crawled back in with a shopping bag of goodies in tow. </p><p>Jamie tossed it to me as he turned to zip the door back up, nearly half its contents spilling out into my lap, and commented, “I think I got all of it.”</p><p>I looked down and grinned at the assortment of snacks Jamie had packed for us for the three hour ride to the cabin. There was a little of everything: from sweet to salty, from healthy to barely cleared by the FDA, and anything on the convenience store shelves that was so outrageous that he couldn’t resist. I took the bag of Smart Pop out and set it beside me, knowing that this would be Jamie’s first pick of the contents, then claimed my already opened bag of pretzels.</p><p>Nibbling on one, I eyed him as he made no move to return to my side or reach for the bag of popcorn, but instead headed for his duffel bag. He unzipped a side pocket and I laughed as he withdrew a silver flask.</p><p>
  <em>Of course, he’d packed whisky. </em>
</p><p>…</p><p>We reclined together against a pile of pillows and snuggled under a recently acquired spare blanket, entangled in each other’s arms and languid with the warmth of fine Scottish whisky. We’d each eaten our fill, but I still felt the pang of an unsatiated hunger deep within me and I knew the way to satisfy it was close at hand.</p><p>Content listening to the crickets and bullfrogs, we’d fallen into a sort of hushed quiet. Not a true silence, for we talked about inconsequential things, but the pauses between our words communicated a great deal more than the speaking of them as we slowly became comfortable with each other again in the dark. His fingers gently wove in an out of my tousled curls, twirling one around his pinky as he absently named the various sounds of the night.</p><p>“…an’ tha’s a loon.”</p><p>“Fitting,” I chuckled, for bird’s nocturnal call resembled something between a yodeling rodent and wailing banshee, it’s lunatic quality by far its identifying feature.</p><p>I shifted, rolling onto my hip and placed my hand on the top of his leg. My fingers curved around his thigh to brush against his skin as I moved my wrist closer to his hip. I heard him catch his breath, then let it out again in a weightless sigh. Jamie bent his head, burying his face in my neck as I grew bolder. The twitch of his smiling lips ticked and his hesitant, murmured question sent a thrill down my spine.</p><p>“Does… does it feel as nice for you… if I… if I touched you there?”</p><p>My throat constricted, my need nearly choking me as I nodded. Jamie turned his shoulders towards me and reached one arm around my waist, his wide palm pressing against the small of my back. His other hand lifted to cradle the back of my head as moved me into a more reclined position and kissed me. Jamie kissed me again and again as he ensured I leaned against the pillows and not the rough sides of our luggage, shifting and gently nudging me until I lay exactly how he wanted.</p><p>I longed to relax in his embrace, but found myself tensing in anticipation instead. Frank had never taken his time with his love, so consumed with his own need that he forgot about mine and plunged ahead without foreplay. I was in uncharted territory and could only imagine what Jamie would do next.</p><p>Moving one leg and then the other, I gripped him tightly with my knees as he settled himself to his business. His left hand slid out from beneath my head, presumably to lean upon, and I lifted my chin, looking up at the dim canopy of the tent above me in a vain hope of disguising my very obvious need before it swallowed me whole. I didn’t want him to see it, my complete depravity, for Frank had always lorded it over me. He’d used it to chain me to him, to keep me bound to him when everything else within me told me to run.</p><p>“<em>Mo chridhe</em>,” Jamie crooned, pulling me from my thoughts.</p><p>One finger gently traced the line of my jaw before he replaced his hand behind my head, forcing me to look at him.</p><p>“You dinna need to hide.”</p><p>My hands suddenly felt very cold, my mouth gone dry as I croaked defensively, “I’m not hiding.”</p><p>Jamie’s gaze softened as he brought his other hand to my face. He kissed me again, this time with such tenderness that I could have burst into tears right then and there. How could such a strong man love so softly? I looped my arms around Jamie’s neck and clung to him, feeling incredibly vulnerable.</p><p>“Then why are you afraid for me to find you?”</p><p>I shook my head, ready to refute this, to tell him I wasn’t afraid of him, but he placed one finger over my lips, silencing me before I could speak.</p><p>“Let me love you, aye?”</p><p>Hot tears burned at the back of my eyes and I willed myself not to cry as he kissed me again, moving his hand to my ribs. His palm skimmed over the ridges, gooseflesh rising across my skin in its wake. His hand settled on my hip and his fingers pressed into my skin as he brought his lips to my neck, dipping lower to place a kiss between my breasts before giving homage to each one.</p><p>My fingers latched onto the scruff of his neck as I inhaled sharply and I felt him smile.</p><p>“Do you want me to stop?”</p><p>“God, no,” I insisted.</p><p>The tip of Jamie’s nose lightly traced a vertical line from my sternum to just above my navel, stopping short to puff a direct burst of air into the sensitive indentation before continuing on. I squealed and writhed beneath him, unable keep myself from descending into a fit of giggles. Jamie lifted his head and grinned like a school boy.</p><p>“I’ll have to remember that,” he remarked excitedly, then picked up where he left off in his perusal of my anatomy, his lips caressing further south.</p><p>“<em>Jamie!</em>”</p><p>He looked up again, one brow rising, “No?”</p><p>“Well,” I blushed profusely, “the <em>smell</em>.”</p><p>“Christ, Sassenach. Tha’s the first thing you do wi’ a skittish horse… give him a good smell of your <em>oxter</em>.”</p><p>“You do not!” I burst in astonishment.</p><p>“Oh, aye,” he assured me, demonstrating for good measure. “You stick their nose right under your arm and then they ken you mean ‘em no harm.”</p><p>I tried hard to swallow my rising mirth, as my mind had gone to an entirely different scent gland at his foreign term, but was having very little success in repressing a second fit of giggles.</p><p>“Oh, your <em>armpit</em>.”</p><p>“Aye,” he rose a brow in innocent confusion. “What did you think I meant?”</p><p>“Never mind,” I shook my head, pressing a hand to my lips as my shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.</p><p>Understanding dawned on him and the schoolboy grin was back in an instant, “Oh, aye? Nae, Sassenach… tha’s a different word entirely.”</p><p>“And just what would that word be?”</p><p>“Tis on the tip of my tongue,” he purred and bent his head once more, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to tell you later.”</p><p>I had a reply ready — something about having to taste it before saying it — but what left my mouth was a garbled mush of <em>Oh Sweet Jesus H Roosevelt Christ</em> as he began in earnest.</p><p>For someone who’d been a virgin not much more than an hour before, Jamie seemed to have a rather good idea of what he was doing and had me arching against his intrusion and grabbing for a fistful of whatever I could have of him. He snorted as I latched onto his hair — barely missing his ear — but kept at it as he hitched my legs over his shoulders.</p><p>A good many sounds left me in short order as I came closer and closer to my peak, the final huff sounding something like <em>please</em>. I didn’t know if I meant please <em>stop</em> or please, <em>for all that’s holy, don’t you </em><b>dare</b><em> stop</em>, but Jame merely acknowledged me with a pat and picked up his speed. His fingers soon replaced his tongue and settled into a rhythm and pressure that made the blood roar in my ears. Lips now free to wander, he gave devotion to every inch of my skin below my navel, caressing and kissing me until I bucked, lifting my hips off the sleeping bag.</p><p>“Jamie,” I hissed, trying to pull him up towards my head.</p><p>I needed more, I need <em>him</em>.</p><p>He lifted his head, his smile sensual and his eyes alight as he moved to hover above me. I dug my heels into the sleeping bag as he silently taunted me with his kiss, lowering his hips to mine. I groaned as he tested the waters, teasing me with added pressure and friction, but still did not enter me.</p><p>“God, Jamie, <em>now!”</em></p><p>A low rumble of mirth vibrated through him as he did as told and quickly caught up with me, the both of us careening towards the point of no return. My fingers dug into his back as wave after wave threatened to overtake me. My chest tightened as he came home again and again, each thrust bringing me closer to my peak.</p><p>I found the air thin at this exhilarating height and struggled to breathe, his name all I could manage as my lips floundered for his, gasping.</p><p>“<em>Jamie</em>.”</p><p>“Aye, <em>Sorcha</em>,” Jamie murmured back as he kissed my neck. His hand slid beneath my head, cradling it in his palm as he brought his face close to mine. His eyes — so clear and yet so utterly entranced — gazed right into my very soul, all at once seeing my vulnerability and vowing to guard it with all his heart.</p><p>“I’ve got you.”</p><p>With these words, I let go… free falling headlong into my release and Jamie’s open arms. He held me fast as I surrendered to the tide, letting it wash over me as it may. Each wave dashed against my heart, pummeling it until it was worn smooth and shone bright as the stars in night sky above.</p><p>I could hear his low voice crooning to me as I began to resurface, yet couldn’t quite make out the words of his heart. Nevertheless, they reached out, guiding me into his safe harbor and anchoring me against the receding tide. My hands found his face and he turned his head within my grasp to kiss my palm, his lips curving into a gentle smile.</p><p>“<em>Tha gaol agam ort, mo nighean donn.</em>”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The One with Jamie's Appendix</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All you need to know: Jamie and Claire are NEWLY newly weds, having literally just gotten back from their honeymoon in Scotland -- just in time for Jamie's appendix to nearly burst. One short ambulance ride from the Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport to Regions Hospital (where Claire used to work and Joe Abernathy currently does) and our problem is solved.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>June 25th, 2009; Regions Hospital, St Paul MN</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Lady Jane?”</p><p>I looked up to find Joe standing in the doorway, grinning at me.</p><p>“How’d it go?” I grabbed for my bag and was at his side in an instant, ready to rid the surgery waiting room behind.</p><p>“Textbook,” he assured me as we entered into the ward I knew so well. With an exaggerated wink, he added, “He’s calling for his doctor.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes, “Joe, <em>you’re</em> his doctor.”</p><p>“You know, I don’t think I’m who he meant when he asked for the <em>love</em> doctor.”</p><p>“Oh god,” I groaned.</p><p>I’d been within earshot of a good many patients waking up from general anesthesia and knew that my husband of exactly twelve days could literally be saying <em>anything</em> right now.</p><p>As if on queue, the recovery room door opened and one of my favorite nurses exited, allowing Jamie’s raucous chorus to slip out into the hallway as well.</p><p>“Gie me my Highland lassie, oh!”</p><p>I winced at his off-key rendition, making Angelique chuckle as she assured me, “He’s doing well.”</p><p>“Good,” I nodded, thanking her as I moved past her and into the room. Any further discussion over my husband’s recovery was cut off by his exclamation of delight at my arrival.</p><p>“Sassenach!”</p><p>My heart clenched at the sight of him, so pale and still drawing strength intravenously, but my brain reminded me that the worst was behind us. We’d caught his appendix in time and every moment would be better than the last, onward and upward to getting Jamie healthy again. I’d wanted him here above all else, with the staff I knew. I could let them do their job without worrying over every move they made because I trusted them completely.</p><p>Jamie grinned up at me as I bent to kiss his brow in greeting, but there was a fog clouding his eyes as his body began to register the procedure and kicked out a myriad of tangled messages registering discomfort and immobility.</p><p>It was from out of that fog that he continued to pontificate, “Within’ the glen sae bushy, oh! Aboon the plain sae… I miss ye bushy, Sassenach. Ye have the most lovely—“</p><p>“<em>Jamie!</em>” I hissed, but he blithely picked up his recitation once again.</p><p>“I set me down wi’ right good will, to sing my Highland lassie, oh!”</p><p>“I think I’ll let you love birds have the room,” Joe chuckled, giving me a wink as he turned to leave. “Angelique will be back in a minute.”</p><p>“Thank you, Joe,” I sighed, meaning it with every fiber of my exhausted being.</p><p>Joe paused in the doorway, his smile softening, but his response was interrupted once again by Jamie’s enthusiasm. Giving me silent wave of parting and a knowing nod instead, he stepped out into the hallway and left us alone in the recovery room.</p><p>“Oh were yon hills and valleys mine… yon palace and yon gardens fine.” Jamie’s eyes drifted shut, his voice lowering to a low hum as he added, “Yon gardens are verra fine indeed, Sassenach.”</p><p>I sighed as I sank into the chair beside Jamie’s bed, “I don’t have any gardens.”</p><p>His brow furrowed at this, stating plainly as if he were telling me the sky was blue, “The garden in the glen wi’ yer bushes, Sassenach.”</p><p>“Oh,” I drew out the word, shaking my head with a smile. “<em>That</em> garden.”</p><p>“Aye… tha’ one.”</p><p>Moving my chair closer, I leaned forward and reached out my free hand to brush back the curls that fell haphazardly across Jamie’s forehead. My fingers tenderly smoothed every line of worry from his face. He’d been resting comfortably when I’d entered the room, but now I felt him relax completely, allowing every ounce of tension to leave him as he fully let down his guard.</p><p>Jamie sighed deeply as he turned his face towards me, placing a reverent kiss in the center of my palm. His words were slow and deliberate, barely audible as sleep crept in.</p><p>
  <em>“Tha gaol agam ort, Sorcha.”</em>
</p><p>My throat clenched and tears burned at the back of my eyes, my voice catching as I whispered back</p><h2>
  <b>
    <em>“Tha gaol agam ort, mo ghraidh.”</em>
  </b>
</h2>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The One with a Job Offer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was written as a One Quote One-Shot challenge... but me being me fit it into Idyllwild instead of making it a one-shot. My quote was {{“I was born for you,” I said simply, and held out my arms to him.}} </p><p>What You Need To Know: Jamie and Claire were married just a few short months ago in June. They live in a house Jamie built on the edge of Lallybroch... This bit is also a sort of take on the scene in S4 when Aunt Jocasta offers River Run in its entirety to Jamie.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>Late Summer 2009; the Fraser home</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Jocasta offered me a promotion today,” Jamie announced without preamble as he entered the kitchen.</p><p>Oh?” my brows rose in surprise, “I didn’t realize there was an opening higher up.”</p><p>He grimaced at this, pulling a face at my choice of words.</p><p>“There isn’t.”</p><p>“Then… what position did she offer you?”</p><p>“<em>Hers</em>.”</p><p>“What?!” I gaped at him from across the room, leaning heavily against the counter in shock.</p><p>“Aye,” Jamie raked a hand over his face and into his hair, standing it wildly on end. “I’ve been wi’ them less than a year an’ my aunt wants to hand the <em>entire</em> <em>operation</em> <em>over</em> <em>to</em> <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“But what do <em>you</em> want?”</p><p>“I don’t want to run a newspaper, I ken that for sure.”</p><p>I nodded, letting the weight of the predicament settle fully around me.</p><p>Jamie’s Aunt Jocasta was his mother’s sister… she was the youngest of the MacKenzie brood, but still a force to be reckoned with. She’d taken over the Idyllwild Press after her first husband — she was now on her third — passed away suddenly from pancreatic cancer. The business was very much a family operation and, while I understood why she’d offered the job to Jamie, I also understood why he didn’t want to take it.</p><p>The paper wasn’t the healthiest of work environments, his aunt tending to be domineering and opinionated to a fault, not to mention the fact she’d overlooked several higher ranking employees in the line of succession. This action was bound to make waves and raise tension, but I knew my loyal husband was considering the position for the simple reason that his aunt had asked him to take it.</p><p>“If you don’t take it, would you want to stay at the Press?” I inquired, slowly wading farther into the dilemma.</p><p>He shrugged, “I’m not sure.”</p><p>“Maybe this is the opportunity you were needing to go back to school?” I suggested, “Take some time off and apply for grad schools?”</p><p>“And saddle us wi’ even more debt?” Jamie rose a brow and all but snorted at this.</p><p>“Hey,” I murmured softly, wandering away from the counter and towards him. “Things may be tight for a bit, but it’s worth it for you to do what you were born to do.”</p><p>His defenses fell back down the little ways they’d grown and he gave me a look, one that warmed me to my core and had my knees buckling.</p><p>“Aye, an’ you ken wha’ that is, do you?”</p><p>Jamie’s accent crept its way into the conversation, a sure sign he was either completely absorbed in his thoughts or in <em>me</em>.</p><p>I smiled, quipping, “Well, I have <em>some</em> idea of it.”</p><p>“Oh, aye?” he grinned at this. “Do tell.”</p><p>“I think you know as well as I do,” I laughed. “You’re happiest with a book and a pen and a paper… with a concept to dissect or a theory to study. You are an academic if I ever met one, but instead of using your knowledge to become stuffy and boorish, you use your way with words to share it in a way that lifts others up.”</p><p>The gleam in his eyes softened as he moved closer, murmuring, “And what about you, my Sassenach? What were you born for? To be a renowned surgeon or a dedicated physician to a small community? To be a poet’s muse… a physiologist’s soul… or a philosopher’s wit?</p><p>I shrugged and reached out my arms to him, answering simply, “I was born for you.”</p><p>“And I for you, <em>mo</em> <em>chridhe</em>,” he smiled tenderly as he accepted my embrace and dipped his head to kiss me. Then, lifting it again with a sigh, he nestled my head beneath his chin — a perfect fit — and speculated, “Whither thou goest an’ all that, aye?”</p><p>“Well, yes, I suppose,” I frowned against his chest, “but it’s… it’s more than that… I mean, isn’t it?”</p><p>Jamie chuckled softly as he lifted me into his arms, intoning his agreement as we drifted as one towards the sofa. He sat and I melted into him, relaxing languidly atop him with a contemplative sigh.</p><p>“My mother followed my father across the globe from one dig to another, but it’s more than just that I’m your <em>wife</em> and the obvious truth that I’d pack up and go anywhere with you…”</p><p>“Aye, I ken what you mean,” Jamie assured, his lips moving softly amid my curls.</p><p>“Do you though?” I mused, shifting into my stomach and stretching my length along his, placing a kiss in the hollow at the base of his neck. His hands traveled along my back, smoothing over my ribs, and pressing my hips against his as I ached aloud, “Everything that’s happened, every twist and turn in my path… the only reasonable explanation I have for any of it is <em>you</em>, Jamie.”</p><p>A tremor of delight and desire ran through him and I found his lips once more.</p><p>“<em>I</em> <em>was</em> <em>made</em> <em>for</em> <em>you</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The One with a Promised Bloom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Jamie and Claire have been married almost a year and Claire is 30 weeks pregnant... the two (well, three including Faith) are celebrating Easter at Jamie's Aunt Jocasta's house.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Easter Sunday, 2010</b>
</p><p>I looked down at my name scrawled across the front of the pastel blue envelope in my hand, then back up at Jamie’s Aunt Jocasta.</p><p>She patted my shoulder a little too excitedly, “The only rule is that you can’t tell someone where their basket is, but you can give them a hint. Your clues are in envelopes like that one and your basket will coordinate. Don’t open the first clue until I give the go ahead,” she instructed before moving away to deliver the others, calling over her shoulder, “No fair teaming up with Jamie, now, dear.”</p><p>I could feel my husband doing his best not to laugh beside me and knew I was doomed.</p><p>“You knew about this, didn’t you?”</p><p>“I did, indeed,” he beamed, having managed to successfully entrap me in his family’s extravaganza. “Auntie’s been doing this in some capacity for as long as I can remember.”</p><p>I whacked him on the nose with my envelope, “Just what does <em>this</em> entail?</p><p>“A scavenger hunt of sorts. The prize is the same every year, but the color coordination is new,” he rose a brow in admiration at his hunter green envelope.</p><p>Fergus catapulted himself onto the couch, leaning over me to exclaim at Jamie, “Hamish says everybody gets one! What color is yours? Mine looks like this!”</p><p>He stuck the rainbow striped rectangle right in front of Jamie face and waved it to and fro.</p><p>“Verra nice, <em>a bhalaich</em>,” he congratulated, nearly going cross eyed in his attempt to see it. Being with his extended family always made Jamie’s sight accent go rogue, and, I had to admit, I loved every bit of it. “Did he tell you how it works?”</p><p>“Oh, aye!” Fergus nodded excitedly, copying the new colloquialism he’d been hearing all afternoon, and flounced off to catch up with his peers.</p><p>Jamie’s fingers entwined in mine amid the folds of my sundress, squeezing my hand as we watched Fergus disappear into the kitchen and heard his voice mingle with those of Jamie’s young cousins.</p><p>“Auntie always makes a special basket,” his words tickled my ear, his voice deeper than usual. “It’s different from the rest and she gives it to the unexpected guest. Gran — my mum’s mum — always made a point of inviting someone she thought needed an extra friend. It was something she instilled in her children, and someone always manages to bring an extra guest last minute to these things.”</p><p>I caught my breath, seeing the stack of cards in Jocasta’s hand. Some were striped, some were multicolored, but Fergus’ was the only one with multicolored stripes.</p><p><em>He was the unexpected guest</em>.</p><p>Tears sprang into my eyes, something that was becoming a regular occurrence at this point in my pregnancy, and I swallowed hard. The MacKenzies had rallied around us when Fergus quite suddenly fell into our laps last week, bending over backwards to lend their resources and time. They’d done everything to ensure the little boy felt welcome and safe among their ranks.</p><p>Before I could formulate any sort of vocal response, Jocasta announced, “Ready…Set… Go!”</p><p>A surge of children exited the house and the adults quickly followed, leaving Jamie and I quite suddenly alone in the formal sitting room. He smiled at me and gently kissed my temple, his lips hovering near my ear. I expected something private and sensual or, perhaps, sentimental in regards to our foster son to come from him, but I got neither.</p><p>“Last one to find their basket is a rotten egg!”</p><p>…</p><p>My first and second clues led me to a rose bush near the back door and a tea kettle that was now being used to house a potted plant on the veranda, respectively, but I was presently sitting on the front stoop trying to decipher my final clue.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Snug and safe, a new life bides;</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Growing and changing as it hides. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>A cozy nest, an empty tomb;</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>You’ll find it ‘neath a promised bloom. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Everything around me was budding in the fair, spring weather we’d been having, leaving me a with a great many potential shrubs, trees, and clumps of iris and daffodil to check for my treasure.</p><p>
  <em>A cozy nest. </em>
</p><p>Was I looking for a bird’s nest? Or a hen house? Or was it inside the house?</p><p>I glanced around me at the farm’s various outbuildings, trying to gauge if any housed fowl and realizing that I hadn’t the foggiest idea of what a chicken coop looked like. Just then, Jamie’s young cousin Hamish came around the corner of the house, basket in hand, with a huge grin on his face.</p><p>“Looks like you found your basket,” I stated the obvious, hoping he’d stop long enough to point me in the right direction.</p><p>His smile grew, something I wouldn’t have thought possible, and nodded.</p><p>“Are you stuck on your clue? Need a hint?”</p><p>
  <em>Exactly the offer I needed. </em>
</p><p>I smiled back, “Does Jocasta have chickens?”</p><p>“Not anymore,” Hamish gestured vaguely over his left shoulder before continuing on his way, “but they were over there.”</p><p>I thanked him and heaved myself up, heading for the low, white shed that was in that direction. A gentle breeze tugged at my skirt as I picked my way across the muddy lawn and made me pull my cardigan tighter around me. The air was as refreshing as it was chilly, yet I embraced it after the warm, crowded gathering of MacKenzies inside the house.</p><p>Reaching the building, I spotted a large forsythia bush at one end and continued towards it. It hadn’t bloomed yet, fulfilling Jocasta’s clue, and I could see something blue near the base, but Jamie’s voice halted me before I could reach for it.</p><p>“Mine’s not under there too, is it, Sassenach?”</p><p>I turned and watched him approach.</p><p>“I thought we weren’t supposed to tell,” I teased with a smirk.</p><p>His hand found the small of my back, his lips brushing against my chilled skin. He was warm, delightfully so, and I melted into him, all thoughts of my Easter basket and its contents gone.</p><p>“Mhmm,” he intoned into my neck, “we’ve made it this far on our own… but now that I’ve found you… I dinna want to fly solo ever again.”</p><p>Jamie held me close, our hidden treasure between us kicking in delight.</p><p>“Neither of us are alone any more, are we?”</p><p>I swallowed hard and pulled his head down to mine in response, stemming my tears of joy, of contented bliss with his kiss.</p><p>…</p><p>“What’s in yours?”</p><p>Jamie’s auburn curls eclipsed my view of my basket, which I had just opened. His eager rapture of discovering the contents of his was unmatched in any of his cousins. The children had been sorting and swapping candy for the last ten minutes, but my husband’s adolescent excitement in his chocolate and jelly beans was a sight to behold.</p><p>“You tell me, you oaf!” I laughed and tickled the back of his neck, “I can’t see a thing with your big head in the way.”</p><p>With an exaggerated sigh, he gently rested his head on the swell of our child, patting it and confiding, “Did you hear that? Your mam is teasing me again. Tell her to be nice, aye?”</p><p>The baby wiggled and squirmed, much to Jamie’s delight.</p><p>“She says you should share your loot,” he grinned up at me.</p><p>I rolled my eyes, “Does she, now?”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” he nodded in mock gravity, “She says she wants the chocolates and wee beans, but tha’ you should give me the Peeps.”</p><p>I was not a fan of the American marshmallow Easter treat shaped as baby chicks and Jamie knew it, his eyes twinkling in merriment over his — or rather, our daughter’s — proposal.</p><p>“The lassie isna even born yet, an’ she has her da’s charm already,” Jamie’s godfather Murtagh commented dryly from a nearby armchair, giving me a wink. “Heaven help ye, Claire, if she has his knack for mischief too. Ye’ll have yer hands full, to be sure.”</p><p>Jenny shorted as she settled herself and infant daughter onto the couch beside me, tousling her brother’s hair, “With any luck, she’ll have her mother’s mind and have the way of things sorted straight from the womb.”</p><p>Jamie laughed at this as he sat up, giving me a chance to see my Easter gifts for the first time.</p><p>“Oh, Jamie, look,” I gushed, lifting a pajama set out of the paper box and holding it up for him to see. It was so soft, with the pants a rainbow of striped pastel hues and Happy Easter printed across the front of the top. My fingers hovered over the handwritten note attached to the tag as my heart soared.</p><p>
  <em>For the bonnie wee lass to come. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The One with the Broon Coo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What you need to know: Faith LIVES and THRIVES. Be prepared for FLUFF and FEELS.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>June 2010</em>
  </b>
</p><p>“Here, let me change her, Sassenach,” Jamie gently lifted his fragrant daughter from my shoulder and cradled her against his bare chest. Faith squirmed, letting out a shrill cry of displeasure at this adjustment.</p><p>“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly as I moved to the side of the bed, “I don’t mind... You know how much she hates it.”</p><p>“Oh, I ken,” he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, ushering me back to the cozy cocoon of blankets and pillows before stepping away.</p><p>He paused in the doorway between our room and the nursery, just in front of the picture window. The rising sun was just beginning to peek thru and painted father and daughter in an almost ethereal, golden light. Jamie looked down at the tiny, three week old bundle in his arms, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face.</p><p>“But we’ll do just fine, won’t we, <em>mo nighean bheag</em>?”</p><p>Tears sprang to my eyes as he left my field of vision.</p><p>So many of my twenty-seven years were lonely. I had thought that I would never have a husband or a child of my very own, but now I had both. I had a husband who ushered me into a life that I would have never dreamed was possible, who made me fall in love with him a little bit more everyday. I had a daughter of my own flesh and blood, who’d grown within me, the product of an unshakable love. I had a son who continually chose Jamie and I to fill the gaping void in his life that was left by his neglectful, abusive parents.</p><p>Faith let out a wail of anguish that would have made her Viking ancestors proud, pulling me out of my thoughts and prompting Jamie to begin one of his lullabies. He couldn’t tell one note from another, but the tuneless, rhythmic crooning of her father’s voice was the one thing that could soothe her when all of my motherly attempts failed.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, the broon coo’s brooken oot an’ eaten a’ the neeps,<br/>The broon coo’s brooken oot an’ eaten a’ the neeps,<br/>The broon coo’s brooken oot an’ eaten a’ the neeps,<br/>Did ye ever see sich an ill-trickit beast?</em>
</p><p>I smiled as the tone of her cries settled into a resigned annoyance and Jamie started into his favorite verses, exaggerating his hint of Scottish accent to the point of depravity.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, the broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the corn,<br/>The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the corn,<br/>The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the corn,<br/>Haud her in aboot, or she’ll dae it ‘gain the morn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, the broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the strae,<br/>The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the strae,<br/>The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the strae,<br/>She’s fleggit a’ the hennies an’ she’s ca’ad them off the lay.</em>
</p><p>The lid of the diaper genie shut with a dull thud just as the squeaky middle drawer of Faith’s dresser opened and shut. She’d leaked into her sleeper then, too. I sighed and mentally fit yet another load of laundry into the long list of activities for the day.</p><p>“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Jamie soothed, the proud smile evident in his voice. “It only took us to the hennies this time, <em>a leannan!”</em></p><p>I held my breath, listening to see whether he’d settle her to sleep himself or if he’d bring her back to me. She’d had her fill before soiling her nappy and I knew she’d not be able to keep her eyes open for long. The nursery fell into a hushed calm for many moments before I caught the almost imperceptible whirring noise of the glider tucked into the corner of her room.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>He was rocking her.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>My eyes slid shut as I sank beneath the down comforter, murmuring, “Bless you, James Fraser.”</p><p>Jamie chuckled. I hadn’t said the words with the intent for him to hear me, but wasn’t entirely surprised that he caught it. His hearing would shame a hawk and he often woke before me when Faith needed attention in the night.</p><p>The low rumble of his voice lulled me into that blissful calm between slumber and wakefulness, suspended in consciousness by the effort it took to decipher his Gaelic murmurings. Jamie had started teaching me the language of his forefathers soon after he proposed and I had a fair understanding of the sweet nothings he often whispered into Faith’s ear as he cared for her. </p><p>I cooed them to her myself when I missed his presence beside me through the day, now that he’d gone back to work full time. His schedule was wonderfully flexible, though, and he’d be able to care for Faith two of the days I’d work when my maternity leave was up. She’d go to his sister Jenny’s for the third, who was home with her own two children, the youngest being just six months older than Faith. I hadn’t any siblings to be had and only one, bachelor uncle to call my own, so the knowledge that my daughter would grow up with a large extended family surrounding her and supporting her was an incredible blessing.</p><p>
  <em>You’ve gotten so <strong>big</strong> since we brought you home, sweetheart. </em>
</p><p>I beamed, a warm euphoria settling over me at the familiar term of endearment that he used on the both of us, as well as his comment. We’d brought Faith home from the hospital just over a week ago, but he was right, the preemie clothes Jenny had found for us were finally beginning to fit her properly.</p><p>
  <em>Will you keep your red hair, like me? Or will it darken to brown like your mother’s? I wouldn’t mind, you know, if you had her beautiful brown curls. </em>
</p><p>Faith sighed in that drowsy way. She was a goner, if she wasn’t asleep already. The pace of the glider slowed, then stopped all together. Soft footsteps brought Faith to her crib and my husband back to me.</p><p>“Thank you,” I murmured as Jamie climbed onto the bed.</p><p>He kissed the top of my head, nuzzling his nose in my hair, “You shouldn’t have to thank me for caring for my own daughter.”</p><p>“I know I don’t have to,” I murmured as I curved into him, “but I want to.”</p><p>Jamie’s arms slid around my waist and nestled me under his chin, his tender strength encircling and sheltering me.</p><p>“I can’t nourish her like you can, <em>mo nighean donn</em>. I couldn’t carry her within me or bear your pain at her birth, but changing her diapers and rocking her to sleep… <em>that</em> I can do. It’s my special time with her, in a way, like nursing her is yours.”</p><p>I lifted his hand to my lips, gently kissing it as I fell back asleep in my husband’s arms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The One where Faith is a Pumpkin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Faith's first Halloween!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>October 31st, 2010; Regions Hospital, St Paul, MN, USA</b>
</p><p>Jamie pulled into a parking spot and turned to grin at me, leaning over for a brief kiss.</p><p>“I can’t tell you how glad I am that the both of you will be leaving with me when I do.”</p><p>My hand caught the back of his neck, keeping him near as I raised a brow. “What else would we do?”</p><p>“Stay,” his eyes clouded over as he was brought back to the uncertain days after Faith’s birth.</p><p>I kissed him again, my lips lingering on his, telling him in words I didn’t know how to say just how much I loved and needed him. Faith began to coo in the back seat, as if professing her undying love as well, and I smiled. Jamie joined me, the act clearing away all traces of fear from his eyes and brow.</p><p>“Ready to show her off?” I teased.</p><p>The smile gave way to an expression I could only describe as beaming, as he wholeheartedly responded, “Oh, aye.”</p><p>…</p><p>“Claire?” A familiar voice called down the hallway leading towards the NICU, “Louise, come see our first trick or treater!!”</p><p>Nurse Mary Hawkins hurried towards us, her face radiating the joy of seeing a former patient healthy and living a normal life. Louise, who had become a close friend in the time my daughter was in her care, was right on her heels, exclaiming, “Look at you, pumpkin!”</p><p>We all laughed at the fitting term of endearment and Faith, outfitted in an orange, plush infant costume, laughed along with us. She reached out her hands to Mary, who gladly took her into her arms.</p><p>“You’ve gotten so big!” She exclaimed with delight.</p><p>
  <em>And she had. </em>
</p><p>Despite her early arrival and subsequent stay in this very NICU, Faith had blossomed into a very happy, healthy five month old. She was hitting milestones as Dr. Raymond and I thought she should, even surprising us with skills earlier than expected a time or two.</p><p>She routinely checked in on the long end of the percentile and outweighed the average for those born at her gestation. Jamie rattled off her stats as a sports commentator would have introduced an all-star athlete, barely able to contain his immense pride over his <em>braw</em>, <em>wee lassie</em>. </p><p>The nurses congratulated Faith, and us, for this wonderful achievement as they grew a little misty eyed. Blinking back tears of my own, I handed Louise the basket of Halloween goodies Jamie and I had made for the NICU team, expressing our gratitude once more for the doctors and nurses who had held on tight to their Faith.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The One Where its Official</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What you need to know: Fergus is officially becoming a Fraser! The how's and why's of this haven't been written yet (including the showdown Claire eludes to) but it should be pretty self explanatory anyway. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>April 8th, 2011; The Fraser’s Residence. </b>
</p><p>“Jamie,” I called through the closed bedroom door, “if we don’t leave in the next ten minutes, we’re going to be late.”</p><p>“Is Fergus ready?”</p><p>Fergus had been ready to go for the past hour and would have been much earlier, had I let him put on his suit and tie when he’d wanted to. The excitement of finalizing his adoption in a matter of hours was almost too much for the eleven year old to handle.</p><p>“Da!” Faith announced upon hearing her father’s voice. She wiggled excitedly in my arms as I carried her over to the changing table for the second time in twenty minutes.</p><p>“<em>Umhmm</em>,” I pulled a face, making her laugh, “your da is a slowpoke.”</p><p>“I can hear you, you ken,” Jamie grinned around the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth as he stuck his head through the door between the master bedroom and nursery.</p><p>I shook my head in playful consternation, “You’re not dressed yet?”</p><p>“Aye, well,” he stammered, “I was looking for my tie and then Ian texted me and… you ken how it is.”</p><p>I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the expression of complete frustration on his face. I knew it wasn’t something he tried to do, but somehow Jamie always managed to be the last one ready, no matter how hard he tried not to be.</p><p>“It’s on the bed,” I smiled.</p><p>…</p><p>It was long past midnight when I crept into Fergus room to watch him sleep.</p><p>The children’s book<em> I’ll Love You Forever</em> came to mind as I sat on the edge of his bed. I’d read it a hundred times to Faith, but I could never get through it without growing misty-eyed. The mother’s repeating declaration of love to her growing son hit home again and again, each time I read it.</p><p>
  <em>I’ll love you forever.<br/>I’ll like you for always.<br/>As long as I’m living, <br/>My baby you’ll be. </em>
</p><p>I reached out and swept the dark curls off his brow. A cashier had remarked last week how fortunate both of my children were to have inherited my curls. Fergus ate it up. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he proudly introduced his baby sister to the woman, and it stayed in place the rest of the day. She didn’t know that it wasn’t my DNA that had given him his unruly mop, but she was still correct.</p><p>
  <em>He was <strong>my</strong> son.</em>
</p><p>He’d been my son in almost every sense of the word for two years, but, as of 2:47pm today, he was now Fergus Claudel <em>Fraser</em>. There wouldn’t be any more legal battles to fight, hoops to jump, or endless stacks of papers to sign. We had won the war and now the innocent child before me could begin a new chapter of his life.</p><p>
  <em>A life free of the threat of violence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A life full of affection and acceptance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A life with a family who loved him.</em>
</p><p>I didn’t hear Jamie approach, but wasn’t startled when he knelt on the floor in front of me, drawing close and sliding his arms around my waist. I let go of Fergus, leaning forward and burying my face in his neck. My silent tears flowed freely as he rubbed my back, murmuring, “He’s safe.”</p><p>Sniffing, I nodded, unable to speak.</p><p>Fergus was safe. His father, who’d threatened my life and those around me on more than one occasion, would be behind bars for the next thirty years and I knew he wouldn’t dare to try anything with Jamie’s extended family perpetually on guard for anyone who’d wish the boy harm. They accounted for over half of Idyllwild’s population, with members in the police force as well as the public school system.</p><p>“Come back to bed?”</p><p>Jamie’s voice held no trace of resentment at my departure, understanding fully my need to see for myself that Fergus was sleeping soundly. I let him guide me back down the hallway and lift me onto the bed beside him. Nestling me beneath his chin, he encircled me in the strength and surety of his arms, his heartbeat lulling me into a peaceful slumber.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The One With A Throw Pillow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What You Need to Know: Faith is about 2.5yrs old and Claire is 35wks pregnant with Bree. Enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>November 7th, 2012</b>
</p><p>“1 - 2 - 4 - 9 - 6… here I tum, Da!”</p><p>I walked into the living room just in time to see Jamie dive onto the sofa and cover his face with a throw pillow, leaving the rest of his six-foot-four frame in plain sight.</p><p>“What are you doing?” I asked unnecessarily as I stood in front of him, grinning.</p><p>His hand shot out and pulled me down on top of him. “Shh, we’re hiding.”</p><p>“We?” I laughed.</p><p>“Oh, aye, Sassenach,” the pillow eagerly replied, “you’re my favorite place to hide.”</p><p>I groaned, “Favorite or easiest to hide behind? Shall I turn sideways and make it easier for you?”</p><p>Faith ran into the room giggling, oblivious to my question directed at an inanimate object.</p><p>“Mum! Where Da?”</p><p>I felt a warm hand slip under my shirt as I glibly answered, “I don’t know, lovie, have you looked behind the chair?”</p><p>She squealed with delight and set off to the far corner of the room. Jamie’s arm slid around my waist, no small distance with five weeks to go before my due date. A low chuckle sounded as I swatted his tickling fingers away from their intended destination.</p><p>“Hear Da!” Faith circled back.</p><p>“Do you? Where could he be?” I feigned ignorance as she climbed onto what was left of my lap. “Whatever shall we do?”</p><p>“Find baby?”</p><p>I wasn’t sure which made me laugh more, her instantaneous abandonment of finding her father or the confusion on her face as she looked about the room. She understood that her baby sister was coming soon and that I “had a baby in my tummy” but she often failed to grasp that they were one and the same.</p><p>“Lovie, baby’s right here,” I shifted her, unintentionally seating Faith directly atop Jamie’s head, resulting in a muffled ‘oof.’ Moving her again, I aimed her sharp knees in the other direction. “Remember?”</p><p>She furrowed her brows as she tugged at the neckline of my shirt, shouting down it for good measure.</p><p>“Baby sis’er, tum OUT! Find you!”</p><p>Jamie vibrated with laughter, but somehow went undetected by his adamant daughter. Either in response to the vocal summons of her elder sister, or, more probably, the less-than-gentle prodding of the same, the baby moved in search of a more comfortable position in her cramped quarters.</p><p>“She hears you,” I grimaced as one daughter’s foot connected with my ribs and the other’s head bumped into my nose, “but she has to hide a bit longer.”</p><p>Faith hadn’t. She’d arrived at barely over thirty five weeks, spending a total of fifteen days in the NICU, with me in hospital for preeclampsia as well for ten of them. I would be thirty five weeks tomorrow and I desperately prayed that this time would be different.</p><p>Playful fingers slipped under the band of my pregnancy jeans and I elbowed Jamie solidly in the gut, ready for this game to be done, “Where do you think your Da is hiding?”</p><p>Faith took the bait and slid off my lap, onto the couch beside me. She wedged her little face between my back and her father’s torso and shrieked at the top of her lungs.</p><p>“Find Da!”</p><p>Jamie moved behind me and I tried to stand, to give him room to sit up, but failed and sank back into the spot he had just vacated. I tipped my head back to rest against the couch, sighing, “Oh good, do you suppose he’ll help mummy up?”</p><p>“He will, dinna fash,” Jamie stood, guiding and lifting me up beside him.</p><p>Faith leapt to her feet and bounced up and down in the couch cushions,  “Up, Da!”</p><p>He grinned as he gathered me into his arms instead, explaining, “Your mum needs a kiss first, munchkin.”</p><p>“<em>Up!”</em> She demanded, in Gaelic this time, tugging at my arm.</p><p>“Faith,” Jamie responded good naturedly as he nuzzled my neck, “I’ll pick you up in just a moment.”</p><p>I heard her clap and giggle, “Lips Da!”</p><p>“If you insist, <em>a leannan</em>,” he murmured as he eagerly followed his daughter’s instructions, kissing me soundly on the lips.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The One with Goliath & Betsy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merry Christmas!! <br/>What You Need To Know: Faith is roughly 2.5, Bree is a wee 2 week old bairn, and Fergus is about 12.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>December 7th, 2012</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Your mother wants Jenny to do <em>what</em> with the children?” I blinked at Jamie incredulously.</p><p>He tried his best not to laugh, “Do a nativity scene for the Christmas card.”</p><p>“With <em>animals</em>?!”</p><p>“Just Goliath and Betsy,” he assured, grinning.</p><p>“Because getting a good portrait of four kids under the age of five isn’t enough,” I shook my head in disbelief, “<em>let’s throw in a miniature donkey and a sheep!</em>”</p><p>Jamie’s mother Ellen was notorious for her elaborate Christmas cards and I knew he was relieved not to have to be in himself this year. He’d gladly wrangle animals and toddlers if it meant he didn’t have to get his picture taken in a ridiculous holiday jumper with his siblings.</p><p>“She said since she’s already making the costumes for the nativity at St Andrew’s, she might as well make a second, smaller set for her own use,” he added.</p><p>“What about Fergus?”</p><p>Jamie nodded as he picked up his mug of coffee from the counter. “He’ll fit the adult costumes, so he can be a shepherd or a wiseman, whichever he prefers.”</p><p>“So, Young Jamie is Joseph, then?”</p><p>“<em>Mhmm</em>”</p><p>I sat down at the kitchen table with my own mug of tea, pondering, “Will Faith or Maggie be Mary, do you think?”</p><p>“Mam wanted Faith, but she saw the costumes when we were over there yesterday and now she’s insisting on being the angel Gabriel.”</p><p>“Let me guess,” I paused for effect, knowing full well Faith’s adoration of playing dress up and glitter of any sort, “Sparkles?”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” Jamie grinned over the rim of his coffee mug.</p><p>“So, Bree as baby Jesus then, hmm?”</p><p>She was already scheduled to play the part in both the children’s program and adult nativity scene at church in the coming weeks, being the youngest member of the parish at the ripe old age of two weeks.</p><p>Jamie grinned, his pride over his youngest daughter visible in every fiber of his being, “Of course, Sassenach.”</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Three days later…</b>
  </em>
</p><p>The morning of the photo shoot dawned with catastrophe looming on the horizon.</p><p>Faith woke up grumpier than I’d ever seen her and no amount of coaxing or bribery could get her out of her pink, footed pajamas. Jamie, Bree, and I were running on a combined total of about four hours of sleep and Fergus had rolled out of bed with a permanent frown. Usually the best of friends, both he and Faith seemed to be going out of their way to annoy each other, bending over backwards to push all the right buttons.</p><p>“No, Gus!” Faith screamed at the top of her lungs as she bodychecked him, “Read a book!”</p><p>The ornery teen scowled down at his little sister, who’d only managed to knock him slightly off course from his path to his breakfast, “Later, Faith.”</p><p>“No! Now!”</p><p>Jamie caught hold of Faith and swung her up into his arms. He mimicked her protruding lower lip and furrowed brows as he stomped exaggeratedly towards the bookshelf, emitting a low sort of growling snarl that our toddler immediately echoed. It sounded something like an alpha male teaching his cub how to roar, which quite fit their personalities.</p><p>Papa Bear flopped down onto the rug at my feet as Baby Bear scurried to collect a few of her favorite tales. With her arms full, she returned to her father’s side, depositing the books onto the floor and crawling into his lap with her first selection. I set the glider into motion and tucked Bree’s head beneath my chin, sliding my eyes shut as her warm, sweet scent and rhythmic movement calmed me.</p><p>I didn’t have to see the book cover to know what story it would be.</p><p>My mind’s eye saw Ludwig Bemelman’s illustrations of a little redheaded girl bravely facing the tiger in the zoo, the smallest of her peers. Faith was still smaller than most two and a half year olds, but healthier than a horse and continued to surprise us all with her dexterity and vocal skills. She had no fear, I wouldn’t put it past her to walk on the railing of a bridge or stare down a caged predator, and had a good deal in common with her favorite fictional character. I smiled as Jamie began to read, Faith’s voice joining in as well.</p><p>
  <em>In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines…</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Ten days after that…</em>
  </b>
</p><p>“Look at what came in the mail, Sassenach.”</p><p>Jamie handed me a glossy photograph with a cheery Christmas greeting written above the portrait’s subjects in beautiful calligraphy.</p><p>“Wow,” I murmured.</p><p>It was a perfect Nativity scene, with Mary and Joseph gazing down at the sleeping baby Jesus flocked by a gleeful shepherd with a sheep and an exuberant angel looking on. A donkey lay in the hay at Joseph’s feet, and even he appeared to know just what sort of miracle he was witness to.</p><p>The miracle wasn’t our Christ child’s birth, but that <em>all five kids</em> had a pleasant expression on their face at the same time and that there was no sign of the blood (Young Jamie managed to loose his first tooth during the photo shoot), sweat (it’d taken us three hours to get what Jenny needed out of her unwilling models), and abundance of tears that were shed. Bree saw the whole extravaganza as a perfect opportunity to catch up on the sleep she’d lost the night before and she’d slept through the entire thing, which was also a miracle in and of itself.</p><p>“Wha’s dat, Mummy?” Faith pulled at my arm in order to get a better view of what I was so interested in. She caught sight of herself and squealed with delight, “Look’it! Have pretty wings!”</p><p>Not only had Jenny made Faith’s Halloween costume fairy wings appear real and ethereal, she’d added a glowing halo above my toddler’s head. The effect was breathtaking. Bree lay securely and comfortably in wee Jamie’s arms, he was deemed the most trustworthy outside of Fergus, and looked almost angelic herself.</p><p>“This is spectacular,” I looked to Jamie, “how on earth did she manage it?”</p><p>He gave me the slow, owlish blink that passed for a wink as he leaned close to kiss me on the cheek, whispering, <strong><em>“Christmas magic, Sassenach.”</em></strong></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The One with Chocolate Chips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!<br/>What You Need to Know: The Fraser Bairn count is now up to FOUR! Fergus is still snoozing at this early hour, being fourteen, and the lil ones check in at: Faith - almost four, Bree - almost a year and a half, and Claire is about four months pregnant with bairn #4 - a beautiful baby boy they name Jake after Jamie's maternal grandfather.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>February 14th, 2014, around 7am; Lallybroch, Idyllwild, MN. </b>
  </em>
</p><p>Dolloping spoonfuls of yogurt into the girls’ bowls and then into my own, I poured granola over all three and reached for the blueberries.</p><p>“Lots, Mummy!” encouraged Faith. “Lots an’ <em>lotsa</em> blues, please!”</p><p>I grinned, though my back was to them, and I heard Jamie chuckle, teasing her, “I dinna think you’d like them at all, <em>a leannan</em>. I think Mummy should give them all to me.”</p><p>“<em>Noooo, Daaaaa!</em>” she giggled.</p><p>
  <em>Oh my word, I swear that sound could cure cancer.<br/></em>
</p><p>I looked over my shoulder to find all three of them grinning from ear to ear, both girls squirming in their booster chairs, unable to contain their adoration for their father. Finding myself in much the same sentiment, I continued with the jest and turned so they could watch my hands move.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, Faith,” I winked, sprinkling ample berries onto their breakfast. “I think baby needs all the blueberries this morning.”</p><p>Faith’s protestations grew as much as her laughter did as I walked the bowls over to them, even going so far as to mime taking a bite from hers.</p><p>“Mummy! You have your own!!”</p><p>“Do I?” I snuck Bree’s bib on, hoping she wouldn’t notice with all the fun going on around her. “Where’s <em>my</em> breakfast?”</p><p>Faith, mouth now full to capacity and then some, pointed towards the counter and something resembling <em>over there</em> slipped from between already messy lips. Bree was not amused by my treachery and had the bib off again in a matter of seconds, her opinion of the dinner wear broadcasted for all to hear.</p><p>“Alright, <em>a leannan,</em>” Jamie acquiesced and took it from her waving hands. “Then we gotta be careful with our spoon, okay?”</p><p>Bree eagerly agreed to this as she dug into her breakfast, responding without looking up, “Kay!”</p><p>Jamie’s hand brushed along the small of my back as I passed on my way to retrieve my breakfast, leaving a spreading, pulsating warmth in his wake.</p><p>
  <em>Would it ever stop? The want, the <strong>need</strong> of him?</em>
</p><p>After five years of marriage, I thought I would have grown used to it, but again and again I found I hadn’t. The seasons had changed — moving us from the exhilarating highs and lows of our short courtship, to exploring the uncharted waters of being newlyweds, to becoming parents three times over with number four due midsummer — and it may have tempered our fervor, yet time had only managed to strengthen our bond, refining us until our hearts truly beat as one.</p><p>Completely absorbed in my thoughts, I lost track of everything around me as I finished up making my own breakfast. I wandered back to the refrigerator to deposit the yogurt and berries, when the container of chocolate chips caught my eye… almost hidden behind the leftover Chinese takeout from last night. I reached out and scooped up a handful to top my parfait, but stopped short as a tiny voice called across the room.</p><p>“mumMAH!”</p><p>
  <strong>I’d been caught.</strong>
</p><p>There was very little Brianna Ellen Fraser missed at the ripe old age of fifteen months and this chance for a treat was <em>certainly</em> not one of them. She knew of my recent cravings and corresponding lax habits of covering my tracks, pouncing on my weaknesses like the opportunist that she was. She hadn’t been as fond of my penchant for pickles last month, but <em>this</em> one… this one was her favorite.</p><p>I watched Jamie try his best not to laugh as I grabbed my bowl and walked towards him, his shoulders obviously shaking as he worked to properly swallow his breakfast cereal. Giving him a look, I sat down next to him and addressed our resident eagle-eyed toddler.</p><p>“Just one, lovey, okay?”</p><p>Jamie coughed, choking on his mirth, as Bree held up one finger and started to wiggle in her seat, her excitement radiating across the table.</p><p>Faith frowned, insisting, “Me too!”</p><p>“You too,” I assured, begrudgingly doling out the chocolate chips.</p><p>Bree’s big blue eyes widened as she received her beloved treat, then, closing her chubby fist around it, outstretched her other hand in supplication as she shouted, “Two!!”</p><p>This was Jamie’s breaking point, and I joined him in his full-out laughter as we delighted in our daughters.</p><p>“Oh, Bree,” Faith sighed, interrupting us, grinning over at her sister as she welcomed the extra treat.</p><p>Jamie leaned over and placed a kiss just behind my ear, whispering,</p><p>"Happy Valentine's Day, Sassenach."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The One that Comes With Directions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What You Need to Know: This wee vignette was written in response to an @exploadingunicorn tweet I found and fell in love with. Faith is very nearly four, Bree is almost two, and Fergus is fourteen. Claire is well into her third pregnancy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>Spring 2014.</b>
  </em>
</p><p>I sat down to a bowl of steaming oatmeal just as Faith turned to Jamie with a question. She was ahead of her peers in many cognitive areas and a veritable sponge regarding the world around her.</p><p>“Da, why did Uncle Murtagh say congratulations to <em>you</em> when Mummy is the one growing the baby in her tummy?”</p><p>My eyes flew to Jamie as he scooped up a spoonful of breakfast and nonchalantly answered, “Because I helped.”</p><p>”How?”</p><p>He nearly choked at our daughter’s response and sputtered for a moment before turning to me, his eyes silently begging me to redirect her focus onto anything but the topic at hand. </p><p><em>Nice try, big guy,</em> I grinned and brought my spoon to my mouth. <em>This one’s all yours. </em></p><p>“Erm,” he scrambled, “I read her the directions.”</p><p>Faith’s brows relaxed, happily accepting this explanation as she went back to eating her breakfast. Everything we said was gospel truth and scientific fact at this age. Unless, of course, the answer was no -- which then brought about a maelstrom of tears and stubbornness that sometimes even Jamie, the immovable Scot that he was, had a hard time outmatching.</p><p>It was my turn to nearly choke on my hot cereal as Jamie’s toes tickled the side of my foot, his face a clear diagram of what anatomical instructions he had for me just now. I covered his foot with mine, pressing firmly enough to send my message.</p><p><em>Soon</em>.</p><p>“Mum, where’s my cleats?” Fergus’ muffled call came from somewhere near the entryway.</p><p>A quick glance at my watch told me Jamie’s mother would arrive in a matter of moments to pick up the kids, depositing Fergus at the school fields for practice and bringing the girls back to Lallybroch for a day at the farm, leaving Jamie and I to attend my doctor’s appointment and have a lunch date sans children.</p><p>Raising my voice, I called back, “In your bag in the laundry room.”</p><p>Loud footballs traveled past the doorway to the kitchen, setting Bree to bouncing in her high chair.</p><p>“Shoes, Mummy?”</p><p>Bree was always game for an adventure and loved putting on shoes more than anything else in the world, save her siblings. She waved her spoon in the air in excitement, flinging globs of porridge everywhere. I wiped one off my arm as the front door open and shut. A cheery greeting sounded, signaling the arrival of my mother-in-law.</p><p>“Granny!” The girls cried in unison.</p><p>Ellen MacKenzie Fraser entered the kitchen with a laugh, scooping Faith up into her arms, “Good morning, munchkin!”</p><p>“Down, down, down!” Bree chanted at the top of her lungs. Picking up the cloth positioned just for this purpose, I wiped her messy cheeks and hands as she switched to, “Out now!”</p><p>“She won’t leave without you, squirt,” Jamie assured her with a grin.</p><p>“Your GranDa would never forgive me if I didna come back with <em>both</em> his favorite girls,” Ellen tousled Bree’s auburn curls. “He told me to tell you tha’ there’s wee cheeties to be found in the hay mow this morn.”</p><p>The squeals of delight that this news brought about could no doubt be heard at Lallybroch itself, which was barely a mile down the road. I passed Bree off to Jamie who lead the procession towards the door Ellen had just entered from... down the hall to the washroom where they encountered Fergus.</p><p>Absently, I sat back down, curling my fingers around a warm mug of tea. Coffee was one of the things I missed during this pregnancy, even though the decaf variety was close at hand. Mornings weren’t quite the same without it. The stubborn morning sickness that had become a signature staple in my — now three — pregnancies seemed to have taken the place of this morning staple and I wasn’t so sure that it was a fair trade at all.</p><p>We’d find out today whether the girls would have a little sister to fawn over or if Fergus and Jamie’s team would be evened out. They’d each made it clear what sort of sibling they desired, but, if I was being honest, I did hope this time the baby would be a boy. We’d known Faith was a girl with the frequent ultrasounds my rocky first pregnancy had required, but we hadn’t known with Bree.</p><p><em>What would this little one be like?</em> I wondered. </p><p>…</p><p>Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back, letting the shower’s spray massage my scalp as the steam enveloped me.  My sinuses opened up and I rejoiced as the aching muscles of my lower back and hips relaxed. Sighing with contentment, I reached for the conditioner but found something else entirely.</p><p><em>Jamie</em>.</p><p>I hadn’t heard him join me, so focused on the water and soothing heat as I’d been, but I certainly didn’t object to his intrusion of the moment. He took hold of the bottle I’d been reaching for and squirted a generous amount into his hand. I smiled, turning so that he could work the creamy substance into my hair.</p><p>He slowly eased himself into the spray with me as his fingers slid through my curls, gently untangling the knots he found there. His hands traveled to my neck, my shoulders, and lower as he loosened my taut muscles. He pulled me close, pressing himself against me as his arms came around my middle.</p><p>Jamie kissed the hollow of my collarbone as he murmured, “The day is ours.”</p><p>“Mmm,” I intoned as his hands found the swell of our child, gently, but firmly, cradling us both. “So it is.”</p><p>A low rumble sounded from deep within him as he turned me in his arms to face him, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in to kiss me.</p><p>“And just what should we do with it?” I asked, keeping my lips out of reach of his with a cheeky grin.</p><p>“Well,” he grinned right back, “let me kiss you again, to start with.”</p><p>I pulled his head down to mine and gave him one that made him come alive against me as I slid my hands down his back, cupping my palms around the curve of his buttocks, whispering, “Then what?”</p><p>“You have the right idea, Sassenach,” he groaned appreciatively in my ear.</p><p>My fingers teased him, tested him in the way I knew he couldn’t resist, “Tell me.”</p><p>“I think I’d rather show you,” he moved us again until my back was against the cold tile wall of the shower.</p><p>“And <em>I</em> think I’d rather have you read me the directions.”</p><p>Jamie tipped his head back and laughed, the rich sound of it booming in our close quarters. I joined him as he shifted us, positioning me as he wanted. He dipped his head to my neck, nuzzling his nose in my ear as he responded, “Oh, aye?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” I nibbled at his collarbone as I spoke. “What would you have said if she asked if she could read the directions?”</p><p>“Remind her she doesna ken how to read,” Jamie answered blandly, making me laugh again.</p><p>“What do the directions say we should do first?”</p><p>“You ken very well what,” he insisted.</p><p>I shoved my hand between us, halting him, “Tell me.”</p><p>“Alright,” he purred, gazing at me through hooded eyes, heavy with passion. He slid my hand out and pushed my arms up, over his shoulders and around his neck. I clasped my hands as he instructed,  “Hold on to me, aye?”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” I mimicked, rubbing the tip of my nose against his. “Then what?”</p><p>“Then…” Jamie trailed off as his leg nudged between mine. The smooth, wet, warmth of his skin sent shockwaves up my thighs, making me tremble with anticipation. He caught my reaction and gave me a look that communicated everything all at once, his understanding and intent very clear, “Then you stand just so.”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” I hummed in his ear as he pressed me against the wall.</p><p>His voice was breathless, an almost imperceptible growl as he spread my legs wider, lifting me higher, “So I can hold you like this and kiss you.”</p><p>He bent his head and did so, earnestly and with a yearning that matched mine. The last month had been a chaotic mess of schedules and we’d barely had a moment to ourselves. We both needed this time alone together… desperately.</p><p>“Again,” he mumbled insistently as he came up for air. I happily obliged, wrapping my legs around him, needing him closer. His hips bucked beneath mine as he muttered, “and again.”</p><p>I grinned around his lips, “And then?”</p><p>“And then…” he gazed deep into my eyes and the rumble intensified, gaining momentum to the point that his eager need made him quake, “I make you mine, <em>mo chridhe</em>.”</p><p>…</p><p>The paper of the exam table crinkled beneath me as I awkwardly tried to lay down on it. Jamie gave me a knowing smile as he leant a helping hand in getting me positioned correctly for the ultrasound technician, who was focused on preparing the necessary instruments.</p><p>“Ready?” he inquired under his breath.</p><p>I let out mine in a long sigh and nodded. He squeezed my hand then kissed it, a gesture the technician didn’t miss.</p><p>“Alright, sweethearts,” she perkily announced as she rolled her stool closer, “I think we’re ready!”</p><p>I could feel Jamie’s smile radiating through his entire body as our baby came up on the screen. My eyes were glued to it, making sure everything looked as it should as she went about the procedure. Mentally, I was doing the exam myself, even though it was the technician’s hands that moved instead of mine. I really didn’t need to, as I couldn’t find fault in her systematic, adorably efficient way of taking the baby’s measurements and finding the needed angles, but it steadied my nerves and kept me still.</p><p>There was baby’s head, measuring as it should. Two hands, two feet. A healthy, beating heart. Their precious face in profile. I held my breath as we approached the area in question.</p><p><em>Alright, little one,</em> my soul whispered to theirs, <em>show us what you’ve got. </em></p><p>I laughed as the baby moved as if in response and gave us precisely the wrong view. The technician and Jamie joined me as she tried again, this time finding just what we were looking for.</p><p>“Is that…” Jamie trailed off, swallowing hard. I nodded, unable to speak, not needing to hear the technician’s opinion. He leaned over me, his face beaming as he kissed my cheek, whispering in my ear in celebration,</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>"He's a boy."</strong>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The One with Faith's First Concert</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who doesn't love wee kiddo's Christmas concerts?!<br/>What You Need to Know: The entire clan is turning out for Faith's kindergarten Christmas concert! Bree is about three and wee Jake is about eighteen months old. (Fergus, age 15, is at his own school for the concert but appears in the second segment) Jenny and Ian's crew ALSO makes an appearance, as Wee Jamie is in second grade and Maggie is in first... their Kate is four, positioned in age between Faith and Bree.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>December 15th, 2015; Idyllwild, MN, USA</b>
  </em>
</p><p>It was still a full forty-five minutes before the concert was to start, but the gymnasium was already beginning to look full.</p><p>“Here, Sassenach?” Jamie gestured to a third row seat, just off the main aisle.</p><p>I counted the empty chairs quickly - <em>Jamie, Bree, Jake, Jenny, Ian, Kate, Ellen, Brian, and I</em> - and found we’d have more than enough.</p><p>“Perfect,” I moved to stand by the first chair, “We’ll need nine.”</p><p>“One - two - three - four - five - seven - ten - eight - nine!” Three year old Bree proudly counted and flopped onto the final folding chair. She hadn’t quite gotten the numbers in order, but she <em>did</em> save enough seats.</p><p>Jamie chuckled and praised her as he spread his coat over the folding chairs, “Why don’t you put your coat where you want to sit, <em>a leannain</em>?”</p><p>Bree had the seating arrangement planned to a T by the time her grandparents, Aunt, Uncle, and cousin arrived ten minutes later. Wee Jake, named after Jamie’s grandfather Jacob MacKenzie, ran back and forth between Jamie and I, as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. I vainly hoped this would wear him out and he would sit through the concert without a terrible amount of fuss, but, <em>knowing my eighteen month old son</em>, I had packed a backup plan in the diaper bag... just in case.</p><p>Ian was the last to slip into his seat, having come from work, and ushered in the arrival of Idyllwild Elementary School’s principal, Dr Weber. She was a kind looking woman, a mother herself, who had some ten years under her belt as the leader of this wonderful school. My limited knowledge of her found her to be fair, patient with the children, and supportive of her staff.</p><p>“Hello everybody and welcome to our Holiday Concert!” She greeted cheerily, “You’re welcome to stop by your kiddo’s classroom after we’ve finished, but we ask that you remain seated until the end of the concert.”</p><p>I supposed it wouldn’t be very kind to the third graders if they only had half an audience to sing to, the parents of the previous grades having left to congratulate their children, but the notion <em>did</em> seem tempting.</p><p>“When is Faith, mummy?” Bree asked in the loudest whisper I’d ever heard.</p><p>IES’ music teacher - a Miss Andersen - stepped forward to explain the order of the concert and introduce the Kindergartners, but Bree still looked to me for her answer.</p><p>“She’s first, love,” I supplied, “then Maggie and Jamie.”</p><p>She clapped her hands with excitement as she knelt on her chair, turning ‘round to watch the five and six year olds file into the large room. I spotted a few of Faith’s friends from preschool as well as a few of my patients before her teacher’s head poked through the door.</p><p>“Mrs Turner!” Bree screeched, making the woman smile and wave.</p><p>“Shh,” I reminded her, while suppressing a laugh. She was certainly not the only excited younger sibling in attendance. Youthful shouts and cries echoed around us, adding to the general hubbub.</p><p>Faith’s class began to enter the gymnasium single file and I had to grab hold of Bree to keep her from joining them. She’d have gone off to kindergarten with her sister every day, if we’d let her, and it often seemed that she thought she was a five year old too. Bree missed nothing in the world going by around her, asking questions and making observations all day long.</p><p>“I see Faith!”</p><p>
  <em>And sure enough, there she was.</em>
</p><p>My smile wobbled as I caught sight of my first born. Her unease was palpable, and my heart lurched as she scanned the crowd for a familiar face. In an instant, she saw us and her countenance completely transformed. She bounced in place as she waved her hand high over her head, her grin making her eyes dance as the green fabric of her dress sparkled beneath the harsh, artificial light.</p><p>I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that she was right behind her dearest friend. The two were <em>inseparable</em> and Chloe was instrumental in helping Faith navigate the chaos of Kindergarten. Unflappable, much like Bree, she balanced my sensitive Faith perfectly.</p><p>They passed by in a whirl of red and green, with a wave and a greeting as they made their way to stand in their assigned place on the risers. Each class was arraigned by height, so that the tallest children were in the middle and the smallest were on the end. There were only two classmates shorter than Faith and this meant I had a perfect view of her at the edge of the throng of singing children.</p><p>I knew every song she’d be singing today - having been treated to impromptu, solo concerts for the last three weeks - but I held my breath in anticipation as the piano began the introduction for the first number.</p><p>
  <em>Frosty the Snowman, was a jolly, happy soul…</em>
</p><p>Wee Jake’s cry of frustration brought my attention back to the people around me and I instinctively reached for him. His resounding, emphatic <em>no</em> made it clear what he thought of that idea and made the elderly couple behind us chuckle. Jamie handed him a snack of Goldfish crackers from the diaper bag, eliciting a shriek of delight not only from our toddler, but the one in front of us as well.</p><p>“No, those are his,” the little girl’s mother reminded her, “yours are right here.”</p><p>The wee tot paid little heed to this differentiation and stretched out her hand in request.</p><p>Jake, familiar with defending his snacks from his sister’s thieving hands, clasped them tightly against his chest and insisted, <em>“Mine!”</em></p><p>Jamie was nearly vibrating with silent laughter by this time as he assured his son that the little girl would not, <em>in fact,</em> be taking his snacks away from him. Jake looked between his father and the encroaching little girl, as if trying to decide who to believe. With a sigh, he settled himself more securely in Jamie’s lap and offered a beloved fish to him, a thank offering in honor of the battle valiantly fought to protect his crackers.</p><p>The first song ended and everyone applauded, including Bree, Jake, and Jenny and Ian’s four year old Kate. She was in between Faith and Bree in age as well as temperament. Kate had inherited her mother’s dark hair and stubborn determination, but her father’s quiet nature, preferring to use actions over words in expressing herself. She pushed the little girl’s hand back to her side of the chairs with a frown, prompting Ian, who’s lap she was on, to remind her that her Uncle Jamie and the little girl’s mother had things well under control.</p><p>The start of the next song diverted all three children’s attentions before anything more could unfold and I sent a knowing look of amusement Jamie’s way. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows as he chewed the crackers fed to him by Jake’s sticky hands.</p><p>Bree crawled onto my lap in search of a better vantage point and I absently tucked her auburn curls behind her ear. She tipped her head away from my fingers, but didn’t complain, her hand taking hold of mine and lifting it away from her hair.</p><p>“Listen to Faith, Mummy,” she instructed.</p><p>I eagerly complied, pulling her tighter against me and rising her up slightly. She giggled and patted my hand as she softly sang along.</p><p>
  <em>“We wishhhh you a Merry Tis’masss, we wishhhh you a Merry Tis’masss…”</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>Faith pranced around the living room, her hair still in the “Cinderella bun” that was coiffed specifically for this morning’s concert, perfectly accented by her pink nightgown, as she belted, “They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games!!”</p><p>“Like monopoly,” Fergus and Jamie echoed in unison as I sank onto the couch.</p><p>Poking him, I curled up beside my husband, “Is this her encore performance?”</p><p>“Oh, <em>aye,</em>” he nodded in mock gravity, “we couldn’t let Fergus go to bed without his verra own performance.”</p><p>The fifteen year old turned to grin, “Da and I are her backup singers.”</p><p>“…then how the reindeer loved him!” Faith twirled past.</p><p>“Loved him,” Jamie trilled, eyes closed and head tipped back against the cushions.</p><p>She continued singing, oblivious to my side conversation <em>or</em> her father’s fatigue, “And they shouted out with glee…”</p><p>“Yippee!” Fergus supplied with exuberance.</p><p>I rose a teasing brow, “Do you dance too?”</p><p>“Only at the Saturday matinee, Sassenach," he cracked one twinkling eye open. </p><p>“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” Faith vamped into her grand finale, “you’ll go down in histoooooooreeeeeey!!”</p><p>Fergus applauded wildly as Jamie muttered, half asleep,</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Like George Washington.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The One that's Certain as the Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Fraser's love the Disney classics!<br/>What You Need to Know: Faith is off at elementary school and has just started first grade, Bree is nearly four and will start preschool soon, Jake is around two and a half and learning to sleep in his big-boy bed to make room in his crib for BAIRN #5... with whom Claire is about six months pregnant. Fergus is also off at high school, at the ripe old age of sixteen!!</p><p>OH! And while it isn't hugely noticeable here, the James Frasers and the Brian Frasers have switched houses... Jamie had built the house they'd been living in with this intended purpose, to take over Lallybroch when his parents got older and HIS family grew too big for the little house.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>Early September, 2016; Lallybroch.</b>
  </em>
</p><p>Bree wandered into the kitchen and tugged at my arm, blue eyes pleading as she demanded, “Mummy, come watch Belle with me.”</p><p>Faith had started first grade this week and the both of us were feeling rather bereft in her absence this afternoon. Beauty and the Beast would have been more Faith’s choice of a film than Bree’s, but I understood the need to be surrounded by Faith’s essence — princesses and happy endings and swirling ball gowns — completely. My eldest was entirely happy in her academic setting and, yet, I found myself wishing her to be home just the same.</p><p>“My baby will like it,” she tried an optimistic second attempt when I didn’t move instantaneously, “an’ I’ll hold your hand so’s you dinna get scared.”</p><p>I grinned at her as I pulled her into what was left of my lap, burying my nose in her neck and making her giggle. She patted the growing swell of her youngest brother or sister — who was always referred to as <em>hers</em>, quite possesively — and grinned as I murmured, “I would love to.”</p><p>Hopping <em>right</em> back off of my lap, she tugged me from the hard, kitchen chair I’d been sitting in and into the den... but before I could make it to the couch, an inquiring cry sounded from the hallway.</p><p><em>Oh, sweet boy, couldn't you sleep just a <strong>little</strong> longer?</em> I mentally sighed.</p><p>“Why don’t you make the sofa cozy for all of us while I get Jake up, <em>mmm</em>? Our own little nest?” I offered, squeezing her hand in encouragement.</p><p>Bree <em>tolerated</em> her little brother as a rule, but she tended to balk when he interrupted her master plans and now this newest little one was beginning to encroach on her space and time as well.</p><p>I waited to see how she would react, holding my breath as she furrowed her brow and pondered this a moment.</p><p>“<em>Okaaay</em>,” she acquiesced, although I could still see the wheels of her mind churning this new development over, her gaze flicking to the stairs as she made sure, “but you’ll still watch with me?”</p><p>“I can’t promise that I’ll be able to watch the <em>whole</em> thing with you, love,” I sighed, wishing I could <em>indeed</em> curl up beside her and not move for an entire hour and a half.</p><p>Bree nodded, accepting this as she flounced off to gather the pillows and blankets we used for such occasions.</p><p>I, in turn, made my way slowly up the stairs and listened to my two year old chatter to himself. Jake had long outgrown the confines of his crib, yet he usually stayed within his room until someone came to get him after nap. The child could sleep through anything and would nap wherever he happened to be when the need struck him, but that also meant that he woke up rather slow.</p><p>Easing the door open softly, I slipped inside the dimly lit room. My eyes adjusting almost immediately as I crooned, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”</p><p>Jake bounced in his bed and laughed with delight, cheering for himself as much as he was for my appearance. He scrambled to his feet and lifted his arms to me. I picked him up and nestled his head beneath my chin, breathing in familiar scent of him. My weariness melted away as I lowered myself into the glider beside his bed, rocking him gently as he became more and more alert.</p><p>“Did you have a good nap?”</p><p>He nodded against me, insisting, “In my bed!”</p><p>“Yes, you did sleep in your bed this time, didn’t you?” I grinned. “I’m <em>very</em> proud of you.”</p><p>“Fay come home?” Jake lifted his head and asked of his eldest sister.</p><p>“No, Faith won’t come home from school until after snack.”</p><p>My heart clenched as his lower lip protruded, his disappointment echoing my own.</p><p>“But Bree is watching Belle," I offered instead, whispering conspiratorially. "She wants to know if you’d like to watch too.”</p><p>Jake’s eyes lit up the dark room as he bounced in my lap, “Aye!”</p><p>We giggled together as we left the dim nursery and went downstairs to find Bree.</p><p>She’d piled the sofa high with pillows of every size, some spilling onto the floor and draped in warm woolen plaids. I wandered over to the bookshelf that housed our growing collection of children’s films and selected the beloved tale, putting it in the player and snagging the remote on my way back to the sofa. Bree patted the open space beside her, which was obviously reserved for me, and my heart melted into a puddle as she handed me Faith’s well-worn stuffed lamb as I sat down. Jake quickly found his own niche of the pillowed sofa, not on my lap, but held fast to a fist full of my shirt as he settled in to watch the classic.</p><p>Bree leaned close, her own lavender colored bear tucked securely under her arm as she admonished, “Tally doesna like it when Belle’s da gets lost and you have to tell her is <em>okay</em> an’ tha’ Belle <em>always</em> finds him.”</p><p>“I will,” I assured her, kissing the top of her head.</p><p>I swallowed hard as I realized that this is what Bree would always tell Faith when they reached that part of the film. That Bree needed to be sure Tally the Lamb would be comforted in her sister’s stead warmed my heart to no end... Bree was both Faith’s champion and courage more often than not, and her being off at school was really the first they’d been separated for any real length of time. </p><p>For this reason and so many more, I pulled Bree a little bit closer to me as the narrator began his familiar prologue:</p>
<h2>
  <em>
    <b>Once upon a time in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle…</b>
  </em>
</h2>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The One with a Blizzard and a Birth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one was written as a sort of challenge -- a birth without a birth scene. <br/>What You Need to Know: First off, it's from Claire's Uncle Lamb's POV. As this fic is the epitome of fluff, EVERY ONE IS ALIVE - including Claire's parents, but she has a very special bond with this paternal uncle of hers. I mean -- what's not to love about quirky Uncle Lamb?<br/>As for the rest of the clan -- Fergus is sixteen, Faith is six, Bree is four, Jake is two, and Claire is to term with her fourth pregnancy/Bairn #5.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>January 12th, 2016; 2:00am</b>
</p><p>I woke to the sound of Claire’s voice coming from outside my door and, since I knew she was having a hard time sleeping due to her advanced state of pregnancy, I decided to see if she wanted company. Slipping on my robe, I padded across the cold, hardwood floor, thinking a warm cup of tea would be just the thing… or maybe cocoa. Claire always loved sharing a pot of cocoa when she couldn’t sleep.</p><p>
  <em>Cocoa, it would be. </em>
</p><p>I stepped, blinking, into the bright hallway and found Jamie standing in the doorway of their bedroom.</p><p>“Oh, it’s you,” I grumbled, trying to decide how to best extricate myself from the situation. “I thought Claire was up.”</p><p>“<em>She is</em>,” my niece blandly commented from behind him.</p><p>Jamie didn’t budge, his bulk obstructing my view of her as I inquired, “Can’t sleep, Cricket?”</p><p>Claire didn’t answer and I tried to peer around my nephew-in-law, which prompted him to speak.</p><p>“Her water’s broke.”</p><p>The phrase was uttered so nonchalantly that it took me moment to understand his meaning.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Claire was going into labor. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>My heart skipped a beat, then clattered ahead at full speed... There were preparations to be made! Children to be tended to!</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Why in the bloody hell was Jamie so calm?!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“I’ll phone the hospital for you,” my hands nervously searched for my cellular device in the pockets of my robe, the blasted thing was never in reach when I needed it. “It’s 911 here, yes?”</p><p>Jamie moved from the door to stand behind Claire, who was bracing herself against a dresser, his hands massaging her lower back with a surety I found exasperating, “No need, Uncle, we’ve contacted her doctor already.”</p><p>“Why are you just standing there?!” I flapped, “Get her into the auto and I’ll grab her bag!”</p><p>“The roads aren’t safe to drive, Uncle Lamb.”</p><p>I stood gaping at him as Claire’s face slowly drained of color, her lips pressing into a thin, white line. I’d navigated roads in war zones, monsoons, and earthquakes and I was not about to let <em>a little snow</em> keep Claire from the medical attention she and her unborn child obviously needed.</p><p>“Bloody hell, they aren’t!” I spat when I found my voice again, “You’ve an all wheel drive, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jamie answered evenly, the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth,<strong><em> damn him</em></strong>.</p><p>“Then why aren’t you taking her to hospital?!”</p><p>“<em>Because</em>,” Claire bit out, the first she’d spoken in quite some time, “I’m not about to bring my child into the world in the front seat of Jamie’s truck.”</p><p>I waved a hand, “Nonsense, you’ll make it in time. It’s, what, ten miles away?”</p><p>“My parents live less than a half a mile from here and it’s taken them over twenty minutes to cover the distance on a <em>snowmobile</em>, Lamb,” Jamie explained.</p><p>The amusement, whatever it’s source, was gone from Jamie’s eyes and, <em>for a fleeting moment</em>, I saw the raw emotion he had carefully tucked behind a wall of calm resolve. He might have thought of every scenario and its outcome before I joined the party, but he was just as concerned and anxious as I was.</p><p>“<em>Erm</em>, yes, I see,” I nodded stiffly as I realized they didn’t presently need me and awkwardly offered to do what I could, “Can I fetch anything for the two of you? Boil some water, perhaps?”</p><p>Claire laughed, <em>a welcome sound</em>, as strained as it was, and I relaxed slightly.</p><p>She gave me a weary smile as she commented, “Only if you want tea, Uncle.”</p><p>…</p><p>“Good morning,” Jamie’s mother, a gregarious woman named Ellen Fraser, cheerily announced as she and her husband entered the kitchen a short while later.</p><p>I’d met them at Claire and Jamie’s wedding and they’d been over for dinner a time or two in my various visits from Boston, of course. Ellen was a retired nurse who had worked at the hospital in town, where Claire was currently employed, and regarded as the undisputed matriarch of Jamie’s family. Brian, his father, was an amiable chap with a delightful sense of humor and I greatly enjoyed his company, under the usual circumstances... <em>of which these were not.</em></p><p>“A good morning to you, too,” I attempted a smile, but knew I didn’t quite manage it.</p><p>Ellen made great haste towards the upper level, speaking over her shoulder to her husband as she took the stairs two at a time, “Let me know when you hear anything.”</p><p>“Aye, I will,” her husband assured her, then asked of me, “Are the girls still asleep?”</p><p>“One of them’s stirring a bit, but I don’t know which is which, to be honest.”</p><p>Brian raised a brow at this and I hastened to explain as I gestured wildly towards the baby monitors that I’d moved from Claire’s bedside table to the kitchen counter, “<em>The monitors and rooms</em>, I mean. I can tell the girls apart.”</p><p>While Faith and Brianna resembled each other as many sisters did, they didn’t look terribly alike. Faith was a good head taller than her sister and had her mother’s willowy bone structure and complexion. Bree on the other hand, still had the look of solid toddlerhood about her and a far more of a tempestuous mane of fiery red hair than Faith’s almost strawberry blonde waves.</p><p>“That’ll be Faith, then,” Brian nodded in understanding, a gleam of tenderness appearing in his eyes at the mention of his granddaughter. “She always wakes when something’s afoot.”</p><p>Little Jake, at two, could be counted on to sleep through just about anything, or so his parents professed. Fergus had a room of his own on this level, separate from the activity above, and I wondered if he’d sleep through the whole ordeal, as well. He was really quite close to his younger siblings and I thought I might wake him up should one of the girls need his solace.</p><p>I moved to the kettle on the stove and poured myself a cup, taking the tin down from its place on the shelf above the mugs. Bringing both to the table, I sat down and began to mindlessly prepare my tea. Brian did the same and joined me, speaking aloud to himself as much as he was to me.</p><p>“Dinna fash,” he touted, “the ambulance is on its way. They’ve the fastest response time in the county, Idyllwild does. Best EMTs too... Although, it might be prideful of me to say so, as our youngest, Rob, is one of them. Wonder if he’s workin’ tonight…” Brian chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement, “Tisnt night anymore, though, is it? Bairns have a way of enterin’ the world a’ dawn... Jamie did the same to Ellen, if I remember right. Quite the stromash gettin’ to the hospital on time then too, but we made it, to be sure.”</p><p>I glanced towards the stairway and the bedroom beyond.</p><p>Would Claire make it to the hospital before her bairn arrived?</p><p>“Claire’s a braw lass,” Brian’s voice was low, thick with emotion as he caught my glance, “an’ she couldna be in want of a better midwife. Ellen’s guided half of Idyllwild into the world… she kens well wha’ to do… Claire kens what’s what too, bein’ a mother already an’ a physician besides.”</p><p>“She’s a <em>surgeon</em>, not an <em>obstetrician</em>!” I burst with barely contained annoyance.</p><p>He looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes, so much like Jamie’s reaction to me earlier that I didn’t know whether to laugh or to weep. The fact that I was found to be inordinately amusing to these Fraser men was <em>not</em> lost on me, but I hadn’t a clue as to what I was doing that made me so. I didn’t like being laughed at, a feeling reminiscent of my childhood, yet, if it took some of the strain from the air, I would bear it.</p><p>“Oh, aye… but she’s a mother first, is she no’?”</p><p>
  <em><strong>That</strong> was an understatement.</em>
</p><p>Medicine would always be a driving force in Claire’s life, but it took a back seat to her marriage and her children. It had from the very beginning. Claire had been the top surgeon at Regions Hospital when she met Jamie, a full hour's commute one way from where they planned to make their home together near his parents’ family farm. She chose to step away from a promising career trajectory after their marriage and instead transfer to the small, local hospital in Idyllwild.</p><p>The staff had been incredibly gratuitous with Claire’s schedule after she returned from her first maternity leave, bending over backwards to accommodate her requests. She was beloved, if not almost revered by her patients and the hospital management was ready to do anything they needed to in order to keep the precious gem that had fallen into their proverbial laps.</p><p>…</p><p>Faith ran ahead of me and opened the door to the master bedroom, sticking her head in without preamble,<em> “Mummy?”</em></p><p>My heart lurched as I tried to grab hold of her before she went all the way in and saw who knows what. A good way to scar a child, that would be.</p><p>“Wait! Mummy’s resting!”</p><p>I hadn’t the foggiest idea if Claire actually <em>was</em> or not, but that was the first thing that came to mind and out my mouth. Quickly taking hold of her hand, I guided Faith back down the hallway and towards the stairs.</p><p>“No, she isn’t,” she scowled up at me, pulling at my hand and trying to backtrack. “She’s talking to Granny Ellen.”</p><p>
  <em>“Faith?”</em>
</p><p>Claire’s voice stopped us both in our tracks.</p><p>“C’mere, <em>a leannain</em>,” Jamie stepped into the hallway and moved to us, sweeping his eldest daughter up into his arms, “Mummy wants to see you.”</p><p>I trailed after them, but stayed in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on their moment and rather uneasy about the goings on within.</p><p>“Mummy, it isna mornin' yet,” Faith gently reprimanded Claire.</p><p>Jamie chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside his wife and Faith leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek. Claire warmly received it, taking Faith’s little face in between unsteady hands and giving her a kiss of her own.</p><p>“It isn’t, is it, lovie?” She fondly nuzzled Faith’s forehead, “But babies do their own thing in their own time, don’t they?”</p><p>Faith screwed up her nose at this, “Like when Jake takes a nap during lunch?”</p><p>“<em>Just</em> like that,” Claire took hold of Jamie’s hand and I could see her knuckles turn white as her grip tightened. “It seems the baby has decided that <em>today</em> is a good day to be born.”</p><p>Faith didn't need any time to process this and plunged on ahead.</p><p>“Did Granny and Granda come so Da can take you to the doctor?”</p><p>A slow smile lit Claire’s tired eyes, “That was the plan, wasn’t it? But it’s snowing so much outside that the doctor is going to come and get <em>me</em> instead.”</p><p>Faith seemed to digest this for a moment, looking between her father and mother as she tried to gauge their attitudes towards this new plan. Her brows furrowed as she processed, an expression that Jamie easily caught.</p><p>“What has you troubled, <em>a leannain</em>?”</p><p>Big blue eyes swiveled to meet his as she sighed, “I have questions.”</p><p>“Alright,” Jamie grinned. “What are they?”</p><p>“Can I stay with you and Mummy until the ambulance gets here?”</p><p>I balked, physically starting at her use of the word. Neither Claire nor Jamie had mentioned it. Faith had put that one together on her own.</p><p>
  <em>How much of the situation was she aware of?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How much were they going to tell her? </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>How much did I want to hear?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Jamie fielded the first question with a gentle shake of his head, “Not this time.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because Mummy needs to listen to her body and Granny and I need to help her,” he answered simply.</p><p>Faith mulled this over, commenting, “Mummy says I need to listen to my body sometimes.”</p><p>“<em>Umhmm</em>,” Jamie agreed. “She does... Right now mummy needs to concentrate on what her body is telling her and do what it tells her to do.”</p><p>The little girl nodded in understanding and turned her focus to Claire.</p><p>“Does your tummy hurt a lot, Mummy?”</p><p>“Yes, lovie.”</p><p>The pain was clearly written across Claire’s face and I was shocked to find Faith was completely nonplussed by this. She patted her mother’s hand demurely, then turned back to Jamie, her brows now smooth and a confident gleam in her eye.</p><p>“Can I watch a video downstairs while you help mummy?”</p><p>“That is a <em>great</em> idea,” he praised as she hopped off his lap and flounced over to the dresser. “Is Cinderella still up here?”</p><p>Jamie moved to take the favorite film from the DVD player and stuck it in its case, handing it over to Faith with a smile. She thanked him in his mother tongue and ran back to the side of the bed to give Claire another hug.</p><p>“Listen good, Mummy, okay?” Faith admonished with a kiss. “Then you and baby can pick the next video.”</p><p>…</p><p>A door opened upstairs and raised voices mingled with the sounds of Cinderella’s wedding bells, catching my attention as I sat in the den with Faith, Brianna, and Fergus.</p><p><em>“She’s fully dilated, Geordie!”</em> Ellen countered, “You’ll not move her <em>so much as an inch</em> until she’s delivered, and even <em>then</em> when and how I say!”</p><p>The door shut again, cutting off the EMT’s response, but I knew he’d be hard pressed to even get within an <em>arm’s</em> reach of Claire if Ellen didn’t will it. She was in complete control of the upstairs proceedings, anticipating my niece’s needs and providing for them before she was ever in want, and, while Ellen welcomed the arrival of the ambulance and it’s subsequent medical supplies and personnel, she was not about to hand over the reins to a man who had only basic trauma training when it came to childbirth.</p><p><em>Or</em>, at least, <em>those had been her words when the EMTs arrived five minutes ago and tried to take over.</em></p><p>Heavy footfalls on the stairs grew closer and Rob, Jamie’s younger brother, entered the den with a grin on his face. He was part of the two man team that had responded to our summons, having been at the ready when the call came in.</p><p>“Unca Rabbie!” Bree called to her uncle with a wild gesture for him to come hither as she announced, “Watchin’ Lion King next!”</p><p>Faith’s eyes grew wide as her sister vacated the spot next to her in favor of their uncles lap, “Mummy said we can’t watch that one again, ‘member?”</p><p>“That’s because Jake roared instead of talking for three days after the last time he watched,” Fergus mumbled, half asleep as he got up to switch disks. “It’s fine.”</p><p>The teen wandered back to the couch once the deed was done and flopped down beside his sisters and uncle to resume his semi-comatose position. He didn’t so much as flinch when Faith crawled, not so nimbly, on top of him and turned her attention to Rob.</p><p>“Why aren’t you helping Mummy and Da upstairs?”</p><p>
  <em>Faith was far too in tuned to what was going on around her, for my taste.</em>
</p><p>She’d been watching the doorway as much as she had her beloved Disney film for the past half hour and I could tell she was beginning to be unsettled by it all as she sat in her brother’s lap. Faith had inherited her mother’s expression of worry, her brows knitting together in the same way and the set of her lips reminiscent of the time Claire and I had gotten into a bit of a pinch at a dig in Cairo when she was about her age.</p><p>Claire’s dogged determination and unwavering stamina had gotten her through that scrape and each that followed… <em>could it not see her though this one?</em></p><p>“Well, squirt, your mummy has <em>so much help</em> right now that I was just getting in the way, so…” Rob reached out and tickled her gently, “I thought I’d come down here and hang out with you guys.”</p><p>“Mummy has a tummy ache,” Bree scowled up at her uncle, looking as if she were ready to battle the beast responsible for this malady, had it a tangible body to fight.</p><p>“Aye, she does, but Granny says she’ll feel much better soon.”</p><p>“How soon?” Faith demanded an answer.</p><p>
  <em>How soon, indeed?</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>
  <strong>Hakuna matata!</strong>
</p><p>The hurried movements from above seeped into Timon and Pumba’s joyful chorus, creating an ironic dichotomy that even Fergus was aware of. He stole glances to his uncle when he was sure Faith wouldn’t notice, but, while Rob was doing his best to assuage his nephew and nieces’ fears, he found little solace there.</p><p>
  <strong>What a wonderful phrase!</strong>
</p><p>A rising swell of anxious voices had me reaching for the remote and increasing the volume of the song before any particular word, phrase, or speaker could be identified by little ears.</p><p>“Why did you turn it up?” Faith asked, her solemn blue eyes studying me intently.</p><p>“It’s my favorite song.”</p><p>She frowned, trying to gauge the sincerity of my answer, worrying over a hidden reason. Fergus shifted her on his lap and it distracted her just enough to let my action be forgotten for a moment.</p><p>
  <strong>Hakuna matata…</strong>
</p><p>Suddenly, all was silent above my head. Not a creak of the floorboards, not an urgent tone uttered. I held my breath, desperately wanting to hear and know what was going on upstairs, but also wanting to shield those dearest to me from anything that would cause them alarm.</p><p>
  <strong>Ain’t no passing craze. </strong>
</p><p>Then, a shrill cry of an infant pierced the air and made Fergus and I jump. He buried his face in Faith’s neck, making her inquire as to <em>why</em>. When he didn’t answer, she switched to French, the language of brother’s heart.</p><p>
  <strong>It means no worries for the rest of your days. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why are you doing that?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Because I’m happy, little sister.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Because the baby is here.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>It’s our problem free philosophy…</strong>
</p><p>My eyes slid shut as wave of relief washed over me, a surge of joy making my heart flutter.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>The baby was here. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <strong>Hakuna matata. </strong>
</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>{ Later that evening. }</b>
  </em>
</p><p>I sat on the edge of Claire’s hospital bed, cradling little Quinn MacKenzie Fraser close to my chest. She was so beautiful, boasting a full head of dark hair like her mother and ten <em>perfect</em> fingers and toes.</p><p>“Thank you,” Claire murmured, her hand squeezing my knee.</p><p>I tore my gaze away from my namesake to find a tear rolling down my niece’s cheek, “Whatever for, love?”</p><p>
  <em>If anything,<strong> I</strong> should be the one thanking <strong>her</strong>. </em>
</p><p>For the incredible honor of naming her child after me.</p><p>For the wonderful gift of watching her family welcome this new little person into the fold.</p><p>For the opportunity to help out, what little I could, as she and the baby recuperated from the overwhelming ordeal that was childbirth.</p><p>“You’ve done so much for me… this morning… and when I was young… I just… I don’t know if I’ve ever really told you how much… how much I love you.”</p><p>“Oh, Cricket,” her childhood pet name spilled from my lips as I leaned forwards to embrace her. Our tears mingled as we held each other close, the sleeping form of her newborn child safely nestled between us.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>"I love you too."</strong>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The One That's Brave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is NSFW, folks. <br/>What you need to know: Trunk-or-Treat is an American alternative to trick-or-treating popular with social groups and often happens the day before Halloween, or earlier in the day, as a safer alternative for younger kids and their families... Jamie and Claire's church is putting one on and there's a costume contest! The Fraser Clan decides to participate -- the bairns ranging from Fergus at 17 to Quinn at ten months.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>October 23rd, 2017; 5pm</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Bzzzzz. Bzzz bzzz. </em>
</p><p>I snagged my phone off the counter as I walked past on my way to the kitchen table, tucking it under my arm for a moment so that I could scoop another helping of mac ‘n cheese onto Bree’s plate. That girl could eat pasta for every meal and never grow tired of it... if we let her.</p><p>She eagerly bounced up and down in her chair as she inquired, “What’s Da say, Mummy? Is he tumin’ home now?”</p><p>“Not quite yet, Bree,” I smiled as I shook my head.</p><p>Jamie had only <em>just</em> gotten to the high school to pick Fergus up from football practice and he often had to wait... which gave him time to peruse his social media. His commentary via text to me was nothing short of a bonafide stand-up comedy routine and it always took the edge off my nerves as Jamie’s absence meant I did dinner solo with the kids, who could never quite make it til he returned to eat.</p><p>Pouncing on the temporary quiet of four chewing mouths, I glanced at my phone and read his text.</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>What do you think? </b>
  </em>
</p><p>Just below the message was a link to a post by St Andrew’s Parish's Facebook page. Swiping, I pulled it up and laughed. Three year old Jake, named after Jamie’s grandfather, joined me with a deep belly laugh, which made the girls laugh too.</p><p>“What’s so funny, Mummy?” Faith asked as she went back to eating, eternally inquisitive at the age of seven.</p><p>“Da wants to know if we want to dress up for Trunk or Treat this year.”</p><p>Her big blue eyes grew to the size of her dinner plate as she latched onto the idea, “<em>You an’ Da</em> dress up too? Or jus’ dress up the van?”</p><p>“Both,” I rolled my eyes, not entirely sure that the prize for winning the best family costume would be worth the hassle.</p><p>“Do we have to bring the babies?” Bree’s brows furrowed as she examined the depravity of Quinn’s high chair and Jake’s far flung radius of haphazard eating.</p><p>“It’s just for <em>big kids</em>, right?”</p><p>Bree would be five in a few weeks and recently gone off to kindergarten... this, in her eyes, had elevated her to far superior status and she <em>hated</em> being lumped together with ‘the babies’ as she called them, insisting on being her own entity at every single possible opportunity.</p><p>“It’s for <em>everybody</em>, love.”</p><p>Her frown quickly darkened and I added, knowing it would vanish as fast as it appeared, “Da and Gus would go too.”</p><p>True to form, Bree’s countenance changed at the mention of her father and older brother and she put the affront of having her younger siblings accompany us out of her mind, going back to happily consuming her meal with a contented smile on her face.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Later that night.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>“But <em>we</em> would have to dress up too?” I clarified as Jamie grinned, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.</p><p>“Only if we want to <em>win</em>, Sassenach,” his eyes glinted with that spark of mischief that I could never resist, “and we <em>do</em> want to win.”</p><p>“Competitive much?” I murmured just before he kissed me.</p><p>A deep rumble of amusement welled up within him as his arms slid around me, pressing my hips against him in an insistent embrace.</p><p>“<em>Oh, aye,</em>” Jamie readily confessed. “But it willna be much of a competition... No one has cuter bairns than us, Sassenach.”</p><p>I certainly couldn't disagree with that pronouncement, but did my best to try not to laugh just the same.</p><p>“So, it has <em>nothing</em> to do with the fact that your sister is entering too?”</p><p>My husband grinned sheepishly at being so transparent, “Well, mebbe a wee bit.”</p><p>I did laugh then and he joined me, grabbing hold of my hand and pulling me into the hallway.</p><p>“Where are we going?” I asked cheekily.</p><p>Jamie didn’t look back at me and instead picked up the pace as we headed towards the stairway that led to the upstairs bedrooms.</p><p>
  <em>“Last one naked is a rotten egg.”</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>An hour and a half before Trunk or Treat, Oct 29th.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Bree’s curls were riotous on a good hair day, but she woke up from nap this afternoon with a mane that would put even her beloved Merida’s to shame. The costume Ellen had made for her was the spitting image of the Disney princess’, and mine was a good likeness to her mother Elinor’s as well. Jake and Quinn were going as brown bear cubs, <em>which was a sight that would make even the grumpiest person smile</em>, but I’d be lying if I said anyone’s get up besides Jamie’s was my favorite.</p><p>I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen my husband in his full Highland regalia — our wedding being the most memorable — and parading around the community event with our gaggle of children would definitely be a moment worth cherishing. Speaking of the flock, I thanked my lucky stars that my in-laws were downstairs wrangling them into costume which gave Jamie and I chance to catch a breath before descending into the sugar-induced chaos that was the American tradition of Halloween.</p><p>“Can you zip me?” I asked his reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking in the long lines of my husband.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes found mine and warmth pooled deep within me as he cocked one brow in answer, his eager delight to do so making the heat of my desire spread across my cheeks. His eyes twinkled as he inched the clasp lower, undoing what I’d fastened and slipping his hand through the opening he’d created in the back of my dress.</p><p>His gaze held mine for just a breath longer before he bent his head, his rough burr tickling the soft skin of my neck as he whispered in my ear.</p><p>“You look verra bonny indeed, Sassenach.”</p><p>I lifted my hand to caress the makings of a beard that he’d grown upon request.</p><p>
  <em>King Fergus has a beard, Da! You have to have one too!!</em>
</p><p>“No shaving til Tuesday morning, <em>mmm</em>?” I smiled.</p><p>The look facial hair gave him was doing a great many things to me, all of which had me wishing he would never shave again.</p><p>He rolled his eyes with a smirk of his own, one hand rubbing at his jaw line, “Monday night right after we get back from Trick or Treating… if I can last that long.”</p><p>“<em>Tuesday morning,</em>” I repeated, arching against him.</p><p>I reached behind me and began to tease up the front of his kilt, my fingers slipping under the rough wool to find his warm skin beneath. My stockinged feet slid on the tile floor as he pressed against me, hard and ready as he anchored me against the smooth bathroom sink.</p><p>“Oh, aye?” Jamie shifted his hips as his palm pressed against my ribs, “Ye like it then, Sassenach?”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” I mimicked. “I like it <em>verra</em> much.”</p><p>The low burning embers that had ignited upon my seeing Jamie in a kilt now burst into flame with his touch. His hand began to wander inside my bodice, caressing me as his other hand reached out and shut the bathroom door, locking it with an effortless flick.</p><p>He kissed me just behind my ear, then nuzzled his chin against the ticklish skin. A small shriek left my lips as I tilted my head to the side out of unquenchable instinct, trapping his face between my cheek and my shoulder as my right hand took hold of him by the scruff of his neck.</p><p>“I wonder…” he purred and I felt him smile against me, “if it’s the look of it… or how it feels on your skin.”</p><p>Without hesitating, I answered vehemently, “Both.”</p><p>A low rumble of delight from behind me sent a thrill down my spine, the sensation multiplying tenfold as his right hand began to lift the back of my skirt. He then slowly removed his left hand from inside my bodice and gathered up the remaining swaths of fabric, looping his arm beneath it and around my waist. His eyes found mine in the mirror as he tugged the rest of his kilt up and out from between us, his intentions clear and his need obvious as he pinned my hips to his. My grip on the back of his head tightened and I lost myself in his gaze in the mirror.</p><p>Jamie’s voice was low, weighed down by his desire as he begged, “Will you have me?”</p><p>“Always,” I whispered, my voice cracking in anticipation.</p><p>He took me then, hard and fast from behind. I let go of his head and pressed both of my palms against the cold countertop, which made the heat of him within me burning a thousand times hotter. The raging flames quickly consumed us both and it was clear that neither was far from their melting point when suddenly my father-in-law spoke from the other side of the door.</p><p>“We canna seem to find Bree’s bow, Jamie.” Brian commented. “Did ye put it up somewhere out of reach?”</p><p>My eyes widened as my core tensed, reflexively trying protect myself. I gasped as Jamie also reacted to his father’s presence, his movements within me becoming rougher and more urgent. The smallest suggestion of a moan left my lips and Jamie’s hand quickly shot out, covering my mouth as he answered haltingly to cover the sound, “Aye! It’s… it’s on top of the fridge.”</p><p>Jamie’s arm around my waist tightened as he drove home again and again, in spite of the close proximity of his father. In fact, it seemed to only fuel Jamie and, in turn, the imposition pushed me nearly to the point of becoming undone.</p><p>“<em>Mmhmm</em>… an’ the arrows?” Brian persisted.</p><p>My hand lifted to Jamie’s, my fingers clamping around his as I cleared a better airway around my nose. Misunderstanding, he loosened his grip on my mouth as well, but I shook my head, pressing his palm back against my lips. Comprehension lit his face and he gave me a look that made my knees threaten to give way beneath me.</p><p>“Nae, no arrows,” Jamie insisted, his voice hitching slightly as I nipped at his hand. He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, but the almost wicked grin that followed betrayed his pleasure.</p><p>“We dinna want to <em>arm</em> the lass… heaven kens what she might do.”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” Brian chuckled and I nearly bit Jamie’s finger in two as he asked, “Is Claire in there with ye?”</p><p>“She’s brushing her teeth,” Jamie lied easily and a sort of laughing snort left my nose as my tongue flicked out from between my teeth to tickle his skin.</p><p>The floorboards creaked outside the door and Brian’s voice sounded a good distance away as he responded, “I’ll talk to her later then.”</p><p>The door of to the bedroom shut a moment later and we were alone once more.</p><p><em>“Christ, Sassenach,”</em> Jamie groaned as he dropped his hand, putting it to better use at my breast.</p><p>I dipped my head to one side in response and turned my face to kiss him, the vocal response I’d been holding back escaping as we climaxed together. Tangled in each other’s arms and buoyed by the wide countertop in front of me, we swayed for a moment or two as reality settled back in.</p><p>A self-deprecating laugh bubbled up within me as I found that, to my surprise, my embarrassment mostly centered around the fact that I <em>wasn’t</em> really embarrassed about what had just happened. Jamie was my husband… the father of my children. I loved him without constraint or apology and let the dice where they may, even if this meant we had an unintended audience.</p><p>I turned, sliding my arms around Jamie and pulling him to me as I lifted my chin to kiss him.</p><p>He kept his face close, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Wha’s on your mind, <em>mo chridhe?</em>”</p><p>“You,” I answered with a shrug.</p><p>Jamie smiled down at me, his hand lifting to cup my cheek.</p><p>“It never stops,” he murmured, the steady thrum of his heartbeat hypnotizing me, lulling me into a hazy stupor. “We’ve been together for nine years and the wanting of you never stops. Even when I’ve just left you, I want you again.”</p><p>I let out a sigh as Jamie kissed my forehead and sank deeper into the fog of contented bliss.</p><p>“And it will never stop, <em>Sorcha</em>,” he promised.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>"Ever."</strong>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The One with Ralphie the Elephant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What you need to know: FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!! The Fraser Clan now totals SIX (I figure a good two spoons for each bairn, ye ken?), ranging from Fergus at 24 (who is off doing his own thing) to Alexa, the baby, at the age of six... The Murray Clan is also in attendance and totals SEVEN (remember ALL LIVE, including Maisri). Granny Ellen is thrilled to bits as they all assemble at Lallybroch for their ritualistic first day of school photo and departure... all THIRTEEN of them. <br/>Also, Claire's sister is mentioned... her name is Christine. They aren't close (she's something of an oddity) but she exists.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>September 2024; Lallybroch.<br/><em>Jamie</em>.</b>
</p><p>“Auntie’s here!”</p><p>Jake’s announcement set about a great flurry of activity and Quinn nearly plowed into me in her haste to join her brother at the large bay window in the living room.</p><p>“Easy there, tiger,” I snatched her up, throwing her wiggling, giggling body over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes as I wandered that way. “School willna start without you.”</p><p>She shrieked with laughter as my fingers tickled her ribs, touting, “It will too!”</p><p>Sure enough, Jenny’s minivan slowed and stopped beside ours in the driveway, the sliding door opening nearly before she had the vehicle in park. The entire flock of my nieces and nephews bounded out of their confinement and raced towards our front door, flinging it wide and running in with exclamations and greetings in two different languages. I set my eight and a half year old daughter down to join her cousins, then stepped outside to welcome my sister.</p><p>“<em>Madainn mhath, piuthar.</em>”</p><p>She got out of the van and gave me a weary smile, the faint sheen of tears hidden just below the surface. I wrapped her up in a great bear hug, tucking her head beneath my chin and assured her, “You did well.”</p><p>Her snorting sigh of disagreement was muffled by my shirt, but I picked it up just the same.</p><p>“Nae, you have,” I insisted, tightening my embrace. “Gettin’ all seven bairns from birth to school is an achievement, to be sure. You and Ian’ve done verra well, indeed.”</p><p>Jenny poked me and I felt her smile despite her tears, “When did you become such a sentimental sot, <em>bràthair?</em>”</p><p>“Oh, somewhere between the altar and bringing my first bairn home, I suppose,” I chuckled, remembering well the day Faith was healthy enough to leave the NICU. She was starting her first year of high school today and that reality gave me no small amount of nostalgia mingled with the wish that they’d stay bairns forever.</p><p>We were interrupted from any further sentimentalities by my namesake pulling into the driveway with his eldest sister sitting grinning in the front seat. He would be driving both Maggie and Faith to the high school, as he was starting his senior year this morn and balked under the idea of having his mother drop him off at school… the great, strapping seventeen year old that he was.</p><p>Jenny had been making a pitstop here at Lallybroch before going to drop off the bairns at their first day school for quite a while now, and the annual photo opportunity made Granny Ellen’s <em>entire year.</em> She’d be over any minute from her house — the home I’d built for Claire and I when we were first married, before we’d switched residences with my parents and took over the farm — and the festivities would begin in earnest.</p><p>The teen climbed out from behind the wheel and commented, “We passed Gran and she said to tell you to keep the kettle on for her.”</p><p>“You <em>drove past</em> your grandmother and didn’t offer her a ride?” His mother asked incredulously, pulling a face I knew well. Heaven help the poor lad. “Have you no’ the sense God have a goose?”</p><p>“Oh we did, Mam,” Maggie assured her. “She didn’t want one.”</p><p>Claire wandered outside just then and the subject was dropped entirely. My wife and only sister had developed an almost nonverbal bond in the fifteen years they’d been sisters by marriage, able to communicate their emotions with just a glance or a single touch and the hug they now shared spoke volumes, mother comforting and strengthening mother on this day of many milestones.</p><p>“You did it, Jen,” I caught Claire’s whispered encouragement as well as Jenny’s arms tightening around my wife’s waist.</p><p>Jamie, the eldest of Jenny’s children, would start his senior year of high school, while Ian, the youngest, would start kindergarten. Our youngest, Alexa, was only a year older than Ian, so Claire knew the feeling of her baby venturing out of the nest for the first time very well. Between Jenny’s bookends, the rest of the bairns settled among the ranks. Our Bree and Jenny’s Kate were of an age and would be starting eighth grade this year, with Jake and Jane and Michael, my twin niece and nephew, not far behind in fifth, each completing their final year in their respective schools. Quinn would be starting her first year at Idyllwild Intermediate in third grade and leaving behind cousin Maisri in second grade and sister Alexa in first at the Elementary School.</p><p>My brother older Willie had children of his own, but they attended a private Catholic school a few towns over and started last week. His trio fit perfectly into the gaps between Jenny’s and my children: Ellie attending eleventh grade, Nick in seventh, and Gracie in fourth. This left the sixth grade as the only that Granny Ellen didn’t have a grandbairn in, but as Claire’s niece was in sixth form in London, she counted it close enough.</p><p>“<em>Muuuuum</em>,” Alexa wailed from the front doorway, interrupting the moment. “Faith says I canna bring Ralphie to school with me!!”</p><p>“I’ll go,” I offered and turned to venture back into the foray.</p><p>I rounded the corner of the garage to find my youngest ready to wage battle with anyone who dared to step foot on the front stoop, a scowl etched into her brow as she clutched her stuffed elephant under her arm.</p><p>“If he stays home, <em>he willna learn ta read, Da!”</em></p><p>Suppressing a smile as I knew she found this to be a very serious situation indeed, I sat down on the top step and lifted her onto my lap, “Did you know that elephants are one of the smartest animals in the <em>entire</em> world, <em>a nighean?</em>”</p><p>Alexa nodded, brow still furrowed and lip starting to protrude for good measure.</p><p>“Well,” I took this in stride and continued. “I gave Ralphie a little reading coaching while you were asleep last night and I think that if you tell him what you’ve learned today when you get home, he’ll learn just fine without being in your classroom.”</p><p>“But what if I <em>forget?”</em></p><p>Alexa had a memory that rivaled that of her beloved pachyderms and I highly doubted she’d forget a single thing about this very first day of first grade.</p><p>“Then Ralphie will remind you,” I assured her easily. Alexa’s imagination was still very much in full force and she was sensitive to all of her stuffed animals’ needs.</p><p>“He’ll be <em>verra</em> anxious to hear all about your day.”</p><p>She contemplated my answer for a few moments before stumbling upon another potential problem.</p><p>“But what about rest time?”</p><p>My smile grew as my heart warmed at her constantly working mind, so very much like her mother’s.</p><p>“I don’t think you’ll have rest time with Miss Swenson.”</p><p>“But what if I <em>do</em>, Da?” Alexa pressed her point, “I canna sleep without Ralphie.”</p><p>“Aye, I ken. If you do, then you can just rest today… you don’t have to sleep,” I encouraged.</p><p>This seemed to quiet a good many fears within her tender heart and she relaxed against me, the wisps of her auburn curls tickling my chin. My own heart clenched as it wondered how my baby girl had gotten so tall. She squirmed and let out a huff, giving Ralphie a final, determined squeeze.</p><p>“Then you have t’be sure he doesna get lonely, okay?”</p><p>“Dinna fash, <em>a thasgaidh</em>. He willna.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“Madainn mhath, piuthar.” = Good morning, sister<br/>A thasgaidh = Darling</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The One with a Picture Frame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This wee fluff is my take on a scene in Season Four when Fergus x Marsali tell Jamie and Claire that they're pregnant...</p><p>What You Need to Know: ITS CHRISTMAS EEEEVE!! The Fraser Clan traditionally opens gifts after returning home from midnight mass and the chaos has settled only marginally. Jamie and Claire are cozy together watching their bairns -- Fergus (26), Faith (16), Bree (14), Jake (12), Quinn (weeks from being 11), and Alexa (nearly 9) -- savor their presents when the newly-wedded couple announce they have another gift.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>Christmas Eve/ Early Christmas Morn (abt 2:30am), 2026; Lallybroch.</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Wait, Marsali and I have something for you and Da,” Fergus motioned me to stay in my place at the end of the couch as he turned to grab something from behind him.</p><p>I had no intention of leaving my cozy cocoon of blankets — my nest giving me a perfect view of the Christmas merriment around me — but smiled at his excited glow. We’d just finished opening gifts and everything was in a state of euphoric pandemonium  around me, the late hour making our heads spin and our voices a little too loud for casual conversation.</p><p>Jamie sat comfortably on the floor at my feet, one arm draped across my lap even as he examined the outfit Alexa received from my sister… which the not quite nine year old had promptly set aside in favor of the geography puzzle we’d given her.</p><p>“You’d think she’d ken the bairns better by now, Sassenach,” he eyed what was supposed to be the height of young girl’s fashion with disdain, holding it between two fingers as if it were Jake’s gym socks.</p><p>“Lexa’s no’ one for this sort of thing.”</p><p>
  <em>He was right. </em>
</p><p>Alexa, the baby of our brood, would not be caught dead in pink… much less the pastel top Jamie was dangling before me. She was much like Bree in this regard and the two were close, despite their six year age difference. In fact, I rather thought the gap was one of the things that drew them together.</p><p>Quinn, on the other hand, was much closer in age to Alexa… yet the two were as different as night and day. Nearly everything the child possessed was a variant of pink. She’d be eleven in two weeks, but she rivaled sixteen year old Faith with her poise and wisdom beyond her years. If Faith was my old soul, then Quinn was my philosopher… and Fergus my optimist.</p><p>“What’s that?” Jake perked up at the sight of another gift.</p><p>Bree crumpled a fistful of wrapping paper and chucked it at his head, the projectile arching perfectly and bouncing off it’s mark.</p><p>“It’s not for you, <em>clotheid</em>,” she chortled, rearming herself as he lobbed the paper back in her direction.</p><p>Marsali cast a quick glance at her husband and commented, “Actually, it’s kind of for everybody.”</p><p>This got Jamie’s attention, as well as brought the wrapping paper mele to a halt, and my daughter in law suddenly found herself at the very center of attention.</p><p>My heart leapt to my throat as I caught the look Fergus gave her. She’d been positively glowing during the candle-lit, midnight mass earlier tonight and she’d had a sort of introspective smile playing on her lips all evening... as if she knew a wonderful secret and couldn’t hold back the joy it gave her.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Marsali was pregnant. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>My eyes widened as I leaned forward to look at Fergus, gripping Jamie’s shoulder as I worked to not spoil the surprise. He grinned back at me, nodding his head ever so slightly as he handed Jamie a box wrapped in green paper.</p><p>“<em>Ooo</em>, what’s this?” Jamie murmured, unwrapping the gift much too slowly for my taste. I snatched it out of his hands and tore back the paper as he complained good naturedly, “Hey, I was opening that!”</p><p>I lifted the lid and an excited squeal left my lips as the box’s contents confirmed my suspicions… an intricately carved wooden frame that held two images — a portrait of all of us taken at Fergus and Marsali’s wedding and a sonogram — with the phrase <b><em>Only The Best Parents Get Promoted to GRANDparents </em></b>etched beneath. I dropped it into Jamie’s lap as I bounded off the sofa and pulled my son into my arms.</p><p>Fergus laughed as everyone else caught on to the gift’s meaning and the room erupted in raucous displays of affection. A flash of movement caught my eye and I looked up just in time to see Faith tackle Marsali in an energetic hug, with Bree and Quinn close on her heels. Alexa wiggled her way in between Fergus and I as Jamie rose from the floor and wrapped all three of us in a big, gigantic bear hug.</p><p>I pressed a kiss to Fergus’ forehead, my spirit soaring as my heart threatened to burst with pride.</p><p>“You are going to be a <em>wonderful</em> father, Fergus,”  I murmured through my tears, clutching his head against my shoulder as if he were the little boy he’d always be in my heart.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“I love you so very much.”</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>His arms tightened around me for a moment as he responded, “Love you too, Mum.”</p><p>With a contented sigh, I let go and gave his cheek a final pat, but paused before I turned to embrace Marsali. There was something in his eyes that held me there, a nagging doubt he had in the validity of my words.</p><p>My heart lurched as Fergus’ birth father came to mind and I took hold of him again in a second, more urgent hug. I had not thought of the man who had walked out on Fergus and his incompetent mother nearly twenty years ago in a <em>long</em> while, but I knew he was on my son’s mind tonight. I felt Fergus shiver in my arms, the memory of François St Germain’s sins intruding on what should be a purely joyous moment.</p><p>“You are <em>not</em> like him,” I insisted, needing to rid him of this budding doubt before it grew into a deeply rooted insecurity. “Your heart is so kind and loving and the <em>opposite</em> of everything that he was to you. You are your father’s son, Fergus… your <em>true</em> father, and he’s here to help you <em>every</em> step of the way... You have <em>us</em> and <strong><em>will</em></strong> always have us on your team.”</p><p>He nodded as he pulled away to look at me. His eyes shone with unshed tears, but his voice was steady and sure as he thanked me, giving me a peck on the cheek as he steered me towards his wife and lifted his littlest sister into his arms. Alexa clung to him and I wondered if the excitement was too much for her at this hour, but I pushed it from my mind as Jamie stayed at their side, readily on hand if her emotions turned south.</p><p>“Congratulations,” I beamed as I pulled Marsali close, her blonde head tucking perfectly beneath my chin.</p><p>She fit so well in my arms and into our family that I thanked the Lord on a daily basis for the blessing He had given us in Marsali MacKimmie Fraser. She’d walked into our lives as a sassy sixteen year old with a troubled home life and a <em>voracious</em> need to find her place in the world… Fergus had been assigned as her lab partner in their human anatomy class — <em>something he still jokes about</em> — and they were together for a good eight years before they were married a little over a year ago.</p><p>Marsali’s mother, Laoghaire, had threatened all sorts of drastic measures when she discovered who Fergus belonged to, and for a while her disapproval fueled the teen’s ambitions, but eventually Marsali outgrew the insatiable need to spite her mother and found that Fergus understood her on a level that others didn’t. She’d found solace within our home and practically lived with us while they were dating in high school.</p><p>I slowly became aware of how tightly Marsali was clinging to me and moved my head to whisper in her ear, “We’ll find a moment to chat about things, <em>mmm?”</em></p><p>She nodded against me without a word and I gave her a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>“I’ve got you, luv.”</strong>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The One with a Skillful Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fluff was written in response to 4x08 and 4x09... I just really needed Bree's baby to be a HAPPY thing, ye ken? <br/>What You Need to Know:: Bree and Roger are off at university, working on their masters degrees. She'll turn twenty-four in a few weeks. Claire has a beautiful herbal garden that she's working in when Bree arrives home... Jamie works from home most days and is occupied with a conference call in the first bit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Early November, 2036; Lallybroch </b>
</p><p>
  <em>Claire.</em>
</p><p>“Mum?”</p><p>Bree’s voice pulled me from my work, my back straightening and my head lifting in surprise to see my daughter grinning at me from the back porch. I certainly hadn’t expected to see her, but eagerly left my gardening spade behind as I closed the distance between us.</p><p>“Well, hello, luv!” I called and she bounded down the stairs towards me. “No classes today?”</p><p>“Nope!” she cheered.</p><p>She was flushed, her cheeks warm against mine as I pulled her close into a hug.</p><p>“You’re <em>freezing</em>! How long have you been out here?”</p><p>I chuckled, only just now realizing how cold I was.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know. Shall we go inside?”</p><p>“I don’t want to interrupt you,” Bree protested as she looked past me to the row of valerian I’d been harvesting.</p><p>“Are you done?”</p><p>“Nearly,” I assured her, pulling her by the hand back to where I’d left off. Resuming my work, I urged, “Tell me what you’ve been up to while I finish up. How’s Roger?”</p><p>“He’s good. Making headway on his dissertation.”</p><p>Both Bree and Roger would finish their graduate studies this spring — Bree with a masters in mechanical engineering and her long term boyfriend in history — and I thought I remembered her saying that she was rather swamped with the workload.</p><p>“I thought you’d want to be writing today too,” I commented, mostly out of curiosity.</p><p>She rolled her eyes dramatically, “I needed a break… some fresh air and sunshine after that dark and dusty library.”</p><p>“Then you’ve definitely come to the right place.”</p><p>Bree’s smile grew wistful as she nodded, absently taking the bundle I handed her.</p><p>“I stopped and picked up scones from Kensington Market on my way,” she sighed. “Tea and scones always solve everything.”</p><p>“Don’t they just?” I agreed.</p><p>She caught me studying her, the light in her eyes brightening and twinkling as she bit her lip, keeping something to herself. I rose one brow in question, wondering just what a tea time with me would solve.</p><p>I knew Bree was busy, even a little harried, but she had a good head on her shoulders. She had a plan and a schedule and was executing it well… she’d told me as much when she was home for my birthday dinner just last week.</p><p>“Alright,” I looped my arm through hers with a thoughtful smile and set my sights on the kitchen door.</p><p>“Let’s put the kettle on.”</p><p>…</p><p>“You’re preoccupied with something,” I murmured, reveling in the warmth of my tea and the company of my daughter. Bree’s gaze flicked up to meet mine over the rim of her delicate teacup as I added, “and it’s more than school, isn’t it?”</p><p>Bree swallowed quickly, a little <em>too</em> quickly, and coughed, commenting wryly, “Good to see you can still read my mind, Mum.”</p><p>“Haven’t lost my touch, then, <em>mmm</em>?” I winked.</p><p>“No,” her gaze dropped, seeing something more than tea leaves at the bottom of her cup. “But I’m rather glad you haven’t.”</p><p>She didn’t continue and a quiet hush fell between us, but she didn’t need to elaborate. Her eyes, her stance, her hands had spoken volumes in the half hour she’d been here, telling me everything I needed to know and more.</p><p>I set my cup down, reaching out my hand and squeezing her knee reassuringly as I asked, “How far along are you, luv?”</p><p>Bree’s eyes slid shut for a brief moment, but the giddy smile that tugged at her lips made my heart soar.</p><p>“About two months,” her brilliant blue eyes sparkled as she blinked back tears.</p><p>I gathered her into my arms as lump rose in my throat.</p><p>“<em>Oh, luv,</em>” I crooned, my hand cupping the curve of the back of her head, cradling her against my shoulder. She held onto me tightly, her grip as fierce as my own.</p><p>“Sweetie, don’t cry,” I soothed, even as I struggled to keep my own tears at bay. “It’ll be alright.”</p><p>Bree sighed softly, sniffling, “I’m okay… it’s just… it’s still so new.”</p><p>“Was it a surprise, then? Or had you been trying?”</p><p>“It, um, it was <em>definitely</em> a surprise,” Bree chuckled, wiping an errant tear away as she sat back, taking hold of my hand. “This wasn’t really part of our plan, but…”</p><p>“But you’re pleased?”</p><p>“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, her smile regaining its strength and surety. “Yes, I am.”</p><p>With a squeal of excitement, I hugged her again and she laughed outright, patting my back reassuringly as I held onto her a little longer than she needed.</p><p>“How did you know?” she shifted our conversation. “When you were pregnant with me… or any of us?”</p><p>I groaned playfully and sat back as I admitted, “Your father told me.”</p><p>“What?!” Bree’s eyes widened as she stared at me in amazement.</p><p>“<em>Mhmm</em>,” I sighed, looking past her out the window. “I was sicker than a dog early on with Faith, but not as much with the rest of you... I’d missed my period, but hadn’t had much in the way of symptoms with you… but he knew before I really realized what was going on.”</p><p>“And he <em>told you</em> you were pregnant?” she laughed.</p><p>I grinned back at her, “Not in those words, but yes.”</p><p>“What did he say?”</p><p>“He handed me a pregnancy test and asked whether or not I wanted company,” I rolled my eyes.</p><p>“<em>Mum!”</em> Bree chortled, drawing out my name into a hundred syllables, just as she had when she was young.</p><p>She was <em>still</em> so young.</p><p>My throat tightened and tears burned at the back of my eyes as I thought of my baby having a baby. Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were bringing <em>her</em> home from the hospital? Time had flown by, leaving me with adult children and a lifetime of memories. I wouldn’t trade a single one, but I <em>did</em>, however, wish that I could stay in moments like these forever.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Jamie. </b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Was that Bree I heard?”</p><p>I wandered into the kitchen, looking for my daughter, but was certainly not disappointed to find my wife in her stead. Claire was seated with her back to me, her mind clearly miles away from her seat at the table. A pair of empty tea cups and the crumbs of something delicious were all that remained of a teatime shared by two of my favorite women.</p><p>She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me, inquiring, “Did your conference call go well?”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” I assured her easily, but brought her back to my original question. “Is Bree home?”</p><p>“She’s in the sunroom,” she supplied as she turned and rose from her seat.</p><p>My arms reached out for her and she stepped into them gladly, pausing to kiss me before burying her face in the worn flannel of my shirtfront. I held her close and she clung to me. The house was quiet around us as we stood together in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the unspoken whispers of each other’s hearts.</p><p>“She’s told you, then?” I murmured when it seemed like she was ready to talk.</p><p>Claire pulled away slightly and tipped her head back to look up at me in confusion, so I added, “About the bairn, I mean.”</p><p>“Bree told me she wanted to tell you herself,” Claire’s brow furrowed. “How did you know that she’s pregnant?”</p><p>“Dinna fash, Sassenach. I ken she will in her own time,” I shook my head, trying to dispel any worries she had that I was offended or hurt in Bree telling her first, but my response only perturbed Claire even more.</p><p>She crossed her arms as she took a step backwards, the scowl she was giving me only deepening as she demanded again, “<em>How did you know that she’s pregnant?”</em></p><p>I shrugged, earning me a swift jab in the ribs. I easily caught her hand before she could do so again and pulled her back into my embrace.</p><p>
  <strong>I didn’t know <em>how</em> I knew… I just <em>knew</em>.</strong>
</p><p>“I dinna ken,” I chuckled, bending my head to kiss the tender skin just behind her ear. “She just had that look about her last time she was here.”</p><p>“<em>What</em> look?”</p><p>
  <em>Christ, she wasn’t going to let this go, was she?</em>
</p><p>“You know… the look <em>you</em> had every time I got you with child,” I punted, not having the foggiest idea of how to put my gut feeling into words.</p><p>I felt her smile, not able to see her face at just this moment, and a sort of breathless giggle bubbled up within her as she asked, “I had a look?”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” I grinned, fondly remembering how beautiful my wife looked when she carried my child deep within her. My voice grew wistful as I insisted, “You did.”</p><p>Claire caught the change and shifted in my arms until she could better look up at me. Her eyes studied me intently as lifted her hands to my face, her thumb reverently stroking my cheek.</p><p>“Tell me your heart, <em>mo bheannachd</em>.”</p><p>She shook her head slowly, the overhead light making the sheen of tears that sprang to her eyes immediately evident.</p><p>
  <b>“You are absolutely amazing, James Fraser.”</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>mo bheannachd = my blessing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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